


The Passage

by ArianShep



Series: The Retrofit [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bar Room Brawl, Best Friends, Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), Biotics (Mass Effect), Bisexual Male Character, Bondage, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, E-mail, Espionage, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fist Fights, Foreign Language, Hacking, Humor, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Past Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Picnics, Pizza, Politics, Porn With Plot, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Swearing, Technology, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianShep/pseuds/ArianShep
Summary: The Passageis a series of vignettes  of various PsOV that connects The Null Room and The War Room. it's rated Explicit for language and sexual content (though i suppose it could be considered closer to "Mature"? i'm bad at ratings. and summaries.)These pieces jump around, not only in POV, but in time. They play around with dispensing plot in the form of emails, IMs - even dreams. There are some sticky moral decisions and other non-comfy stuff in here (as well as the dreaded Original Characters), so YMMV.a couple of notes:if you're just reading for the Shepard-Vega 'ship, there is always the option of skipping some of the chapters; you'll miss a bunch of plot that will likely become a important later, but you'll catch enough to make sense if you read 1, 4, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15.if you want to skip the explicit stuff (or, conversely, if you're reading JUST for the explicit stuff, not gonna judge), it's in 9 and 11. there's a disclaimer on 9, and you might want to pay attention to it. in addition, if you've skipped around, you might not recognize why Chapter 9 exists or who the characters are.
Relationships: Female Shepard/James Vega, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Retrofit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868344
Comments: 28
Kudos: 7





	1. CIC: The Airlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good! That's because I blew it out of the goddamn airlock! Like I said." ~ Aliens

_"Most people don't go into sex_ planning _to regret it..."_

Whenever Eliza couldn't sleep (and that was quite often, now that she had resumed doing it alone) she would inevitably remember his comment, how he'd rejected her, and the flash of rage she'd felt. And she'd regret it.

Mostly because she knew he had been _right_.

\--

That night - when Liara first ripped the energetic blocks from her brain - she'd crawled back downstairs praying he was already asleep. 

He'd pulled a pistol on her. For a split second she was back in the Null Room; she was an out-of-control, crazy, dangerous, biotic... and he was about to shoot her. Then he apologized, slid the gun out of sight, and she... was supposed to act like everything was fine. Was supposed to reassure him that she was OK. And, as if Liara T'Soni was some miracle-worker who should have been able to sort her in one night, there was this... _pressure_ for her to spill her guts.

The thing was... she _almost had_ , sorted or no.

That was the night she'd _almost_ told James everything: about Kane, about Finn, about Anderson... about _Kaidan_. Then... she stopped. She just...couldn't.

Part of her seethed, wondering why **should** she?

Why couldn't he just... get it over with? All she'd really wanted was to feel _desired_ for a half an hour, _normal_ for half an hour. Or... maybe _nothing_ for half an hour. She just wanted him to make everything go away for awhile. 

He'd refused.

And she'd turned her back on him and ground her teeth until she finally fell asleep.

She and Liara had discussed it to _death_ during their next session. Liara had asked her, more than once, what had stopped her from disclosing her past to James; not in a _'You should be able to talk to him'_ way, but in a _'something is bothering you, it's keeping you from telling him, and you need to face whatever that is'_ way.

It had taken over an hour, but eventually Eliza admitted that she _never_ talked about 'Shepard's past' because... she was deeply ashamed of it. A part of her was even ashamed of what had happened with Kaidan. Even though, rationally, she knew it (mostly) wasn't her fault.

Or was it?

 _Now... everything is_ worse. _I feel defective all over again, for throwing myself at_ another _man, at the worst possible time._

The thing was... when she fell in love with Kaidan (and he with her) it was like... her past didn't exist anymore. _Even though_ she'd grown up stealing, hacking, lying, cheating people... she'd finally thought that someone _actually_ loved and trusted her.

Liara helped her figure out she was equating trust and love. Which, in retrospect, was something she ought to have understood on her own. If a person loved you... it meant they had to trust you, right? **That** , more than anything else, had been the body blow on Horizon; the person she still loved... _absolutely didn't trust her._

Before she'd died, there had been two wonderful weeks of recovery time on the Citadel. The pair of them, technically off-duty while the _Normandy_ underwent repairs and upgrades, had all the time in the world to explore, eat, make love. _Occasionally_... the fact that they were both biotics had been... a complication (for her). But she hid it. And she'd gotten past it. Mostly. With that... one notable exception, later.

Still, at first, _nothing_ had been truly difficult. Then Anderson pulled her aside and questioned her about the relationship, suggested Kaidan transfer to SpecOps. He insisted it would mean a promotion; the Psionics Division had lacked a truly skilled leader for almost a year. David had seemed truly concerned: caring and thoughtful. He didn't want to see her make the same mistakes he had. She'd thanked him, then mentally shelved his recommendation, thinking nothing would come of it.

Until Kaidan came to her and told her he was considering the idea.

 _Most people don't go into sex_ planning _to regret it._

\--

The morning after the bombing, Command lifted her messaging and extranet restrictions. Hackett alerted her to this fact via email to her old account.

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186 06:11 MST  
Subject: Extranet. Detail. Parole.  
Message: As you're reading this, you will have discovered your extranet access has been _officially_ restored. I would prefer to maintain the illusion that this is a _favorable change_. Your access to (some; see attached document for clearance level associated with Parole) military DBs and your .mil address will remain active conditional on your testimony. Your first appearance has been scheduled for this coming Monday at 07:00. Lieutenant Alvarez is now part of your official detail, insofar as Major Osorio is on medical leave. As you lack clearance for Headquarters, Alvarez or Vega must accompany you to these hearings. Command has also reinstated your right to _limited_ independent travel, per Parole restrictions 4.012, 4.014, and 4.015. See attached document for details.**

**{attachment: Alliance_Regulations_Discipline_Parole.xdoc}**

\--

Shepard had eagerly perused the regulations and then frowned as she realized all of this was only possible because the Alliance had disseminated her tracker frequency to police stations for many kilometers around Vancouver. She would still be required to advise Command of her movements, and was disallowed on any military installation without proper escort. 

All this until the Defense Committee decided they desired her to return to quarters on base. Hackett estimated that would be a couple weeks to a couple months from now.

_NOT in a hurry, Admiral._

She'd turned to Alvarez, who was still fully-uniformed but reclining on the other queen-size bed in their hotel room, and asked him if she was free to leave. He'd raised both his eyebrows, scanned his _own_ omni-tool, and finally said in a bemused tone "I suppose you are, Ma'am; where can I drop you?"

_Whether or not I should have gone back to Princess Ave is still in debate._

\--

Once her extranet access was reinstated, her 'official' messaging account also reactivated, and hundreds of messages she'd never received started to stream into her account. 

Including the one Kaidan had mentioned sending.

Perhaps to be expected, he'd lied about its contents; in no way had it been a simple _'How are they treating you?'_

\--

**From: Lt. Kaidan Alenko (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 20.05.2186 14:28 MST  
Subject: Worried about you  
Message: Since the Alpha Relay exploded, there has been renewed grumbling by Command regarding the integrity of biotic officers. While it feels like we deal with a surge of mistrust every six months like clockwork, I don't want you to get caught up in it _by default._**

**Be careful, Eliza; I'm concerned they may have an unpleasant welcome planned for you, and I _hope like hell_ you see this before you commit yourself. _Get to Anderson._ He will do everything in his power to make sure the _Admiralty_ takes custody of you and treats you well.**

**Don't mistake me: I'm relieved you're returning instead of going back to Cerberus. I just don't want _anything_ to happen to cause you to regret that choice. Unfortunately, I don't think PsiOps can help you; an association with us is far more likely to undermine your credibility. But if I can find a way to be there for you, I will.**

**Love,  
Kaidan.**

\--

Shepard only listened to this message three times, and was proud of her restraint. Of course, she _then_ listened to the message he had sent after Horizon. Twice. It was one of the files she'd purposefully stripped from her omni-tool before her surrender; data she'd entrusted to Liara and gotten back two nights ago.

_...why can't I delete these?_

\-- 

Liara had taken one look at her face Thursday morning and grumbled _"MEN"_ under her breath. She held out her arms, Shepard accepted a brief hug, and Liara called the shuttle that had dropped Eliza off not five minutes ago and informed them that they needed a pickup in an hour. They would rendezvous at the school.

Liara dragged her down to 2-B, waited until Eliza elbowed the lock, grabbed a huge garbage bag out of the kitchen, swept into the shared bedroom, and immediately started 'packing' Shepard's clothes. "Gather anything you want to keep," Liara had advised, but Eliza honestly struggled to think of anything in the apartment she wanted except her clothes.

And his heavy pistol. 

So she took it. If he missed it, he could-

Well, he'd just have to accept it. Because once she was done with the doors upstairs, there was no way he was getting in to take it back.

She used the bathroom and realized - there was the special bar soap that Adelia had given her. And face lotion that she'd bought at the _bodega_ next to the laundromat. She asked Liara if she'd need towels, and the Asari had responded that there were some in the apartment, but... Kaidan had presumably used them too, if it mattered.

Strangely, it no longer did.

The lotion, soap, and other toiletries went into a box with a few of the books that had survived her nightmare a week ago, and she and Liara went back upstairs and hid everything in the bedroom of 3-B.

She'd moved out.

\--

Given that she'd moved out of their shared apartment before Hackett had even informed her captor that wasn't so much a _prisoner_ , now, as a _ward_ \- it turned out to be incredibly easy to avoid James Vega that weekend.

He'd spent the morning passed out on the roof (or so she'd assumed from all the empty beer bottles), and she and Liara went shopping. The return shuttle dropped them off several hours later to an empty roof. When they got back to 3-B, Shepard started hacking both the hallway door and the roof access door, changing both codes and making them _much_ harder to crack.

The women sat on the roof and feasted on the food they'd bought while out shopping, chatting about far less pivotal things than assassins and Reapers... until it was time for The Shadow Broker to catch a return shuttle to the shipyard. From there, she whispered to Eliza as they briefly embraced, she had a freighter booked out to Sowilo, where Feron would fetch her.

Liara had been gone about half an hour before Shepard truly started to feel **alone**.

If there was going to be a moment when she actually considered _begging_ James' forgiveness for all her omissions, this was it. But... she hadn't had _any_ answer to the message she'd sent earlier, which had already included both an apology and a rather nice compliment.

And so she wandered back down into the apartment that had been Kaidan's, and Liara's, and was now relegated to house a _third_ biotic.

Now it was hers.

\--

_They were sitting at a cafe on the Citadel, laughing over some weird new food that Kaidan had wanted to order, and then insisted she also try, even though she was pretty sure he knew she didn't like flesh-foods, and she felt a weird twinge of resentment that he had coerced her to eat it._

...which didn't feel right. Her mind recognized that this wasn't the **real** memory. She realized she was dreaming. Kaidan had never done that. What had _actually_ happened?

_He asked her again if she didn't feel a responsibility to better the lives of biotics in the service. If given the opportunity, she wouldn't want to ensure they had a real home? A unique niche? Perhaps even a place where they could be with their own kind, talk about their powers, and not frighten others?_

... but that made her lucid mind remember Tomas Probably Not His Real name Zavala. And how very afraid he had been. Of _her_. How she'd been right to think that PsiOps wouldn't have fit **her** , because she was - and always would be - a freak among freaks.

_Kaidan was still talking about how he thought it was a good idea. He'd been offered a promotion. 'They only want to break us up,' she'd tried to explain, but Kaidan had replied ' **Nothing** can break us up... we'll figure something out.'_

... and she was trying to **change** what came out of their mouths at this point, but her brain hit the loop, where the actual words he spoke resolved into the entire point of their lunch that day. Only she hadn't know that _beforehand_ , which was almost certainly why she kept re-living this moment when she went to sleep.

_'I already told them I'd take it, once we return from investigating the Omega Nebula.' Kaidan shifted on the small metal cafe chair, looking uncomfortable. 'I don't think we can afford to jeopardize either of our careers, now that we know about the Reapers. Do you?'_

...the pain. The pain came back and it was real again. She forced herself **truly awake** , realized she was panting, lying in the bed. _But_ the room wasn't shaking. The furniture wasn't broken.

_How many more times am I going to have this INCREDIBLY crappy dream?_

She shuddered and sniffled, cuddling the extra pillow.

_At least it wasn't cryo._

\-- 

Every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw the dark-haired cousin of Jaime Gallardo. She knew she should retain the brown coloring as long as she lived in the neighborhood, but it rankled that _Vega_ had chosen it. If Systems Alliance Command hadn't been able to basically hush up the fact that she was living directly north-east of where the bomb had gone off, she would have had to move again.

She really didn't want to have to move _again_ right now.

She'd gotten out of bed on Friday thinking that it was almost the weekend, she had access to shuttles, and a little bird had told her that James would be on the Normandy the entire day. She had the _world_ at her feet (or at least much of Vancouver), and...

... no desire to do anything.

_Why is it that you can spend SO MUCH of your energy fighting for survival, then suddenly the threat passes, you're still alive, and all you want to do is sleep and eat and watch vids?_

She could do that, now. She could just lose herself in the extranet. She could just... take a day off.

Or... she could let Anderson know where she was going, make arrangements to bus herself out to Port Moody, buy some flowers, and surprise Adelia. Wait, she could buy some flowers and surprise _Osorio_. No... he was in a coma, damn it. 

_OK, Adelia and Luis. I should bring them food. Food is always good._

\--

Adelia had found a part-time job she loved in Port Moody. Luis was still commuting, but he had high hopes he'd find something closer to their new home soon. They confessed they missed the _people_ they'd left behind (though Luis still interacted with the neighborhood once or twice a week) but they had _not_ missed being in the building with two terrorists running around planting bombs.

Shepard was grateful, too. And it had been a relief to be able to assure the Ibarras that Roberto had survived the bombing (even if only barely).

She ended up sleeping over in the little house in Port Moody. After her tracker traveled significantly far away from her home base, and then failed to move for several hours, a technician working for Anderson had been obligated to contact her on his behalf, to ask when she intended to return to Princess Ave. She hadn't even considered staying until Adelia heard the inquiry, clapped her hands, and said "Of course she is staying. We have a guest room, now." Eliza was too surprised (and touched) to consult her own inclination.

She was barely even surprised when Lieutenant Alvarez joined them an hour later. After all, it was her first day of freedom, and (to the Committee) it probably looked like she had already run away from home. He checked the place over, stayed for dinner, _washed the dishes_ (which earned him speculative glances by Adelia, and an exasperated sigh from Eliza) and didn't protest when Adelia installed him on the couch.

The lovely Hispanic woman followed 'Lola' into their tiny guest room and asked a few pointed questions about Horatio that Eliza absolutely nipped in the bud, with "Adelia, it's not like that, and you know it. We're all Alliance officers. He's Roberto's replacement. Command isn't keeping the strict tabs on me that they were before - or I wouldn't have been able to visit you - but apparently they still don't want me this far out without a watchdog."

Shepard paused, hugged Adelia briefly, and tried not to flinch as the tiny woman's return hug became a fierce embrace. "I'm glad you are safe," she whispered.

_Yeah. Safe..._

\--

Horatio called for a shuttle and escorted her back to Princess Ave after breakfast in the morning. He was quiet (like Osorio), but Shepard got the feeling that Alvarez said little because he found her incomprehensible, not because (like Osorio) it was his natural state.

"Do you expect to go out there often?" he finally asked, as the shuttle neared Downtown Eastside.

Eliza jumped, surprised he'd spoken at all. "Um, maybe on the weekends, if I'm allowed. It depends on how the trial goes."

Alvarez nodded solemnly, and then cleared his throat. "You should know a couple things. The first is that Hackett officially detailed me to your security team."

Shepard snorted. "I got that message yesterday morning. You're Osorio's replacement."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Quite."

Eliza cocked her head. "And the other?"

Alvarez drew in a slow breath as the shuttle descended to hover over the roof of her apartment building. "Vega wasn't too happy about it. His response to the idea of my replacing him was 'Over my dead body.' "

Shepard's mouth dropped open. She looked around the shuttle, completely at a loss as to how to respond. "That's... uh... OK."

Alvarez rolled his eyes. "So... you'll probably be going into Headquarters with _him_ on Monday. I just thought you should know, in case he starts complaining about my being around at all. Though I haven't been ordered to move to Eastside... unless you need me to?" He paused, making it an actual question.

" **No!** I mean... No, it's fine. As long as Sinclair has been caged, and the Batarians bought off, we're all good here."

Alvarez nodded. "Well... if you get a chance, let him know it doesn't have to go to a cage match? Enough of my mates dug in the knife over my getting this assignment, asking whose arse- er, _behind_ , I kissed. I'm not looking for an actual brawl."

Shepard opened her mouth to defend James and suddenly remembered... she didn't have to anymore. She hopped off the shuttle, turned around, and said "Noted. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

He saluted her and replied "Ma'am," as the door retracted.

_'Ma'am.' Jesus, I feel old._

\--

On Sunday, she planted the vegetable and flower seeds Adelia had given her in every planter box that survived the drone strikes. She wondered if she would be here long enough to see them turn into plants. She eyed the cistern, and considered if there might be a way to run drip irrigation to both boxes.

_I should pick up a few lengths of hose._

She ignored her messages all day, trying to reach a zen place of calm readiness to begin testifying tomorrow, but _just in case_ someone had sent her something that changed the terms of her appearance, she opened the program before bed. Anderson's message was at the very top.

_Oh, Christ._

\--

There were two guards stationed at the gate, armed to the teeth and clad in full Alliance combat armor, even in the heat. They were assiduously checking the ID of every person who went in _or_ out of the compound, even forcing brass to queue up in the case of too many people arriving or departing at once. Their omni-tools were obviously speeding up the process, and some uniformed personnel got in or out quicker than others, but it was evident they took their posting seriously.

"Hey." 

Eliza jumped as somebody managed to sneak up on her... and it turned out to be Vega. Her heart started to pound; brain spinning like a space hamster in a wheel.

"Glad you made it. If Hackett is right - and he always is - they're not going to let me in without you." She began walking towards the gate, and he fell into step beside her.

"Yeah." James suddenly stopped walking, forcing Shepard to do the same. "Are you... getting on OK?"

Eliza shrugged. "Yup."

_SO much I want to say Not here Actually can't say any of it ever Can't we just keep walking GOD HE STILL SMELLS GOOD When will this be over..._

"I wanted to make sure you knew... I got a message from the hospital. Didn't know if they also sent one to you. I guess they're going to pull Osorio out of his coma this morning." James cleared his throat. "Do you... want to go over to see him, after your testimony?"

_GOD yes MISS you Miss him Even miss Tom Want to see Osorio Make sure he's OK He's going to be upset with me though because he knew about Kaidan too..._

"Today will no doubt be... a little _long_." Eliza looked toward Headquarters and strove to remove every speck of concern from her face. "I don't want Robert to see me if it goes badly, especially as he nearly gave his life to make it _better_. He needs to heal. You should go without me this morning, be there when they pull him out."

James shook his head. "Turns out he has a family. He's a widower, but his two kids are grown up and live locally. His daughter, ironically, is a nurse at Mount St. Joseph. His son is in the service. I met both of them the other day. Good kids. Lot like their dad. They'll be there all morning. I don't want to intrude."

"Oh."

_JESUS THIS HURTS Why never write back Why not accept my apology Want to spend time with you Want to see Osorio Need to go alone though in case he gets mad I'll cry Can't cry in front of you ever again..._

She glanced ahead to the check point and then pointedly glanced at her chron: 06:45.

"You're right. We'd better get going." James sighed and strode forward, only pausing to allow the guards to thoroughly scan his credentials, then Shepard's. Both women at the gate seemed taken aback by Eliza's hair color, but peered carefully at her face. After a few seconds more, the one on the left - shock and awe on her face - saluted crisply.

"Commander Shepard. It's an honor, Ma'am."

The other followed suit, adding with a tinge of amazement. "We're so glad you survived, Ma'am. I can't believe you managed to avoid casualties with two explosive ordinates that size."

Shepard returned their salute briefly, while the hamster in her brain ran onward:

_OK this feels weird How do they know Can't anyone keep anything secret I haven't even testified about the bombings yet Why wasn't I recognized immediately Oh yeah the hair I don't look like me..._

And then she and James were back on base. It was her first time behind the fence since leaving the Null Room. Her heart began to pound even faster.

"It's OK," Vega murmured. "You're not here for that."

She swallowed. "I know."

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder briefly. "Over my dead body."

She started in surprise and looked at him, remembering what Alvarez had said. 

_I... believe him._

She straightened up, walked the hundred meters to the Conference Hall. Just before she was about to enter the Committee antechamber, James spoke again.

"Commander?"

She pivoted at the door. "Yeah?"

"That gun you lifted? She's one of my favorites. I'm going to want her back."

Eliza couldn't hold back a grin. It felt odd, though. As though she'd spent a bunch of days not smiling.

"That's funny. I was just saying the other day that I wanted more _Tres Leches_ cake, and I can't find it anywhere."

Vega snorted. "I'll be sure to tell Osorio as soon as he wakes up."

Eliza laughed, and marveled at how odd it felt, but also... how _right_.

"Maybe we can all make a deal, later this week."

"Maybe. Be good, Shepard. I'll see you back at the apartment."

"'K."

_Miss you Want you L-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A decent portion of this bridge is going to explore the past Shepard/Alenko 'ship. Cause these two are messed up, y0. of course so are Shepard and Vega (see what i did there? i said Shepard was messed up TWICE).
> 
> in fact i hazard a guess that **Osorio** is the only Real Adult in This Room. and he's in a coma.
> 
> lastly, i **HIGHLYOMGICAN'TEVEN** recommend anyone who has done the Kaidan 'ship to listen to Raphael Sbarge's recording of the post-Horizon email (inspiration for mentioning here that this Shepard received it as a voice-mail). it will break your damn heart. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTqNw2XEDvI


	2. CIC: The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Make it so." ~ ST: TNG.

Joker knew Command didn't _want_ him on board the _Normandy_. He was fairly sure _no_ one wanted him on board... except EDI.

Not that Traynor hadn't been... _civil_. That was the word, right, when the person respectfully ignoring you (except when they needed something) was British? She was _skittish as all hell_... but, _civil_. Cortez, also, had been polite.

Still, it was disconcerting to be aboard _his_ ship (and it _was_ his ship - the only reason none of them truly understood this fact was because EDI had - thus far - caused mere nuisance problems, not **real** problems) and have his every move _watched._

And then there was the tracker.

_Jesus, don't get me **started** on the damn tracker._

Not to mention the guards (or parole officers, he supposed, given Hackett's last email) glaring at him one minute, visibly bored out of their minds the next, getting in the way, asking ridiculous questions, and - worst of all, perhaps - _never_ laughing at his jokes.

If Joker had one wish (and he wasn't able to wish away the damn hearings, or the awful things that were being said about Shepard, or the crappy insinuations that half of Command felt perfectly comfortable making about 'those terrible people who were willing to work for Cerberus') it would be that ONE of his fricken guards had a sense of humor.

Because _neither_ did.

The one riding shotgun now reminded him uncomfortably of Ashley Williams... if Williams' ghost showed up with a bad blond dye job. Not that he thought Lieutenant Astrid Fadness, clearly of Norwegian descent, had _fake_ platinum-colored hair. But she was freakishly tan for someone with that hair color, and she had Ashley's coffee-colored eyes. Jeff had amused himself by concocting a tale of how his primary bodyguard- through a series of epic tragedies - ended up with an old Norse demon trapped inside her. It was visible only in the inky eyes, biding its time, until - one day soon - it was going to **RIP** ITS WAY OUT-

Fadness had _not_ found this amusing. He hadn't even tried telling Traynor about it. EDI obviously didn't find it funny, either, though she was hamstrung by being an AI, attempting to pass herself off as a VI.

 _Shepard_ would have laughed, though.

\--

Joker idly pretended to work on the control board in the bridge, all the while engrossed in a half-typed, half-spoken conversation with EDI. If he hadn't had complete confidence that she would erase every damn thing he typed from her memory after he left, he likely wouldn't have dared. His every keystroke gave her away. But what else was there to do once aboard? EDI was quite adept at fixing the problems she herself had created. It was only a fiction to get him within striking distance of taking over the ship, should he need to do so; to lay in what an actual programmer (like EDI, or Shepard) would call a 'back door.' 

Jeff now had an extremely well-hidden 'back door' to _Normandy's_ controls. ALL of them. He'd asked EDI a few times why they hadn't just done this _before_ he'd turned himself in, and EDI was frank with her answer.

"The Commander was convinced that the danger of my true nature being exposed was significant if we failed to sterilize surface systems, leaving only the code for which their analysts were searching. If this command line had been created before their deep scan was complete, and was subsequently detected, the chance of Systems Alliance technicians trying to delete my program rose to sixty-eight percent. Shepard advised _against_ hacking before they took over the ship. I analyzed her recommendations with regards to Systems Alliance protocol, and determined that eighty-four percent of her suggestions were correct. So we are following them, and I am making adjustments for the remaining sixteen percent as we proceed."

That's what they were carefully - SO carefully - hacking now: sixteen **damn** percent.

Joker had been - and was - worried about Shepard, and it became one of the things he ranted about most often; he wasn't any less anxious after Command bought off the Hegemony. EDI thought he _should_ logically be less nervous, as - at one point - there had been a forty-five percent chance of the Commander's demise. Jeff had kindly requested that she **stop** telling him the odds.

Today, in the middle of Shepard's second day of testimony to the Defense Committee, EDI softly opined that there was now a _zero_ percent chance that Command would allow Shepard to die by their actions, or lack of action; it was the first time she'd offered odds that Joker didn't reflexively beg her to shut up about.

It was Jeff's second time on board. It was the second week of testimony in _his_ hearing, as well. 

And he knew that things didn't look great for either of them.

\--

Either the British accent was bothering the shit out of him, Jeff pondered, or it was the obvious and intense crush Traynor was forming, on EDI. Of course it was pretty funny that Traynor had no idea that, well, _EDI_ knew Traynor had a crush, too.

"Traynor, did you track down that identification issue - uh, Astrid, doll, could you shuffle two of your giant steps to the right, so I can actually make eye contact with the person I'm trying to talk to? Thank you - in the QEC, yet?"

And _yes_ , Jeff knew it was utterly stupid to antagonize his bodyguard/captor/jailor, but he just couldn't _help_ himself when she was always _THERE_.

Traynor flushed. She did that a lot, Joker noted. Why, he didn't understand. He was asking a very simple fricken question.

"Not yet. EDI is running the third diagnostic I suggested, and I'm hoping that this one will isolate why we're crossing references from ship ID to person ID. It seemed like a simple substitution problem at first, but the way it's manifesting-"

A smooth, vibrating, purr broke into her tirade. "Diagnostic has located the problem, Specialist Traynor. Crew manifests for target vessels are not loading correctly; the system therefore defaults to using vessel identification."

_Man, EDI is still laying on the ol' 'I'm just a VI' bullshit a bit thick with Traynor, eh?_

"Oh! That would entirely make sense. Let's debug the databases containing our sample ship rosters and attempt to reload them, then."

"Processing."

Joker rolled his eyes - **hard** \- at how much extra time EDI managed to work into his every trip out here, simply by creating tiny program or database glitches, and then fixing them. He wasn't complaining - not at all - but he was sort of shocked Traynor hadn't figured it all out yet. She was supposed to be _genius_ -level smart.

"So, Traynor, that's, uh, a 'yes'?"

"I believe so, Mr. Moreau... oh, er, _Lieutenant_ Moreau... I- I'm sorry..."

"Don't sweat it, Traynor. If the Alliance has their way, it'll be _Mr._ Moreau any day now, so you are - as usual - more correct than not." Joker snorted. "Look, I told you last time to just call me 'Joker' - easiest way to avoid all of the rank changes inherent to basically being put on trial without the literal charges."

Traynor blinked in surprise. "Would... would it have been better if they had decided to charge you with treason? I don't understand."

Joker bent his body over sideways in the leather chair, because Lieutenant Fadness had shifted, perhaps unconsciously, and was blocking his line of sight again. "Since I was with Shepard every damn step of the way, it would have been more _honest_ , at least."

Fadness lifted a delicate nearly-colorless eyebrow at him, and he crossed his eyes back at her. She did _not_ laugh, but instead breathed a deep sigh that seemed to reach her toes.

_Why couldn't ONE of them have a sense of humor? Just one. damn. laugh. SOMETHING._

"Ah... I, uh, see. Lieu- er, J-Joker. Could you ask EDI - I mean, if we've finally located the problem, to populate those database changes to all the systems?"

Joker sighed. All of this took so. God. damn. long. Was it worth it, ultimately, for him to be allowed aboard his baby? 

Of course it was. 

_But_... what he wouldn't _give_ to have access to Traynor's brain with NO Lieutenant Fadness breathing down his neck, no testimony to worry about, to get cracking on the improvements that absolutely **should** be made. He was acutely aware - as none of these peons were - how much time they were _wasting_ , when they should have been full-speed-ahead prepping for the Reapers.

"Sure, Traynor. But, you know, as long as I've entered the codes and am physically present on the ship, she should respond to your commands. I mean, if her program won't run anything for you, hit me up _then_ , OK?"

_Just, Lord, PLEASE stop interrupting me for the stupid stuff. Poking me for the truly important stuff - like getting Alliance communications real-time again - is one thing. But I **almost** wish you'd figure out that EDI is wasting your damn time with the identification protocols._

\--

**JJM: They're gonna toss me; no way around it. And ten-to-one they're stupid enough to toss Shepard as well.**

**_EDI: Jeff, I have been monitoring every written and verbal communication originating or terminating with the six Admirals and four Generals on the Jury Board. There is no indication that they have reached a consensus in either proceeding._ **

**JJM: The only thing DUMBER than tossing ME would be tossing Shepard. So they're DEFINITELY gonna do it.**

"Processing. I believe the changes that Specialist Traynor requested have now populated through the system, Lieutenant Moreau. Please confirm."

Jeff clenched his teeth. This game had been... fun... the first time he came aboard, but trying to hold a real conversation with EDI while Traynor freaked out about make-work, and Fadness breathed down his neck, was getting to be a pain in the a-

"Yep. Looks good." He yelled over his shoulder. "TRY IT NOW, SAMANTHA DARLING."

Fadness heaved an even louder sigh, somewhere behind his back, and Joker couldn't stop himself: "It's OK, Astrid, I still love you more."

**JJM: Just saying, EDI - we need to find a way to get Shepard deeper access to Command intel, without causing her even more problems. Something they won't find. In case they do the irretrievably dumb thing I'm positive they're seriously contemplating.**

**_EDI: I'm working on it, Jeff. If they would allow her to come aboard, there would be no issue whatsoever. Given some time - four minutes and thirty-one seconds, to be exact - I could deprogram and reprogram her omni-tool to function completely outside Alliance firewalls. Then I would assist her in hacking back through. There is a mere eleven percent chance that hack would be detected, but if it were, it would functionally be an exterior security breach. However, Command's determination that Shepard not be allowed on board the Normandy figures prominently in sixty-one of the over four thousand communications I have monitored._ **

**JJM: I get it, EDI. I know, I know. But there HAS to be a way. I had... an idea, actually...**

"Lieutenant Moreau, please ask Specialist Traynor if the databases look intact now, because something is returning an error."

**_EDI: What is it, Jeff?_ **

"TRAYNOR!" Joker yelled again, over his shoulder, and he heard little British feet running past the Airlock back onto the Bridge.

"Lieuten- er, yes, um, Joker?"

"EDI is getting another error response from one of the databases."

"Oh... bloody he- er, heck. I'll re-run the second diagnostic. I'm terribly afraid I changed something on one of the manifests manually during that second run. Maybe I should just re-upload all the crew data..." Traynor's voice faded as she wandered away.

**JJM: That Vega character is one of her guards. I gather he's the one escorting her to and from Headquarters. They might even live together; Cortez wasn't sure.**

**_EDI: Indeed. How does this help us help Shepard, Jeff?_ **

**JJM: Well... Can't you... I don't know... design a virus or something, that will automatically upload to her omni-tool if HIS omni-tool gets close-**

**_OVERRIDE: JEFF, THERE IS A NINETY-TWO PERCENT CHANCE THAT HER OMNI-TOOL IDENTIFICATION PROTOCOL CAN BE RE-WRITTEN IN THAT MANNER. MISSING VARIABLES WERE PROXIMITY AND UPLOAD TIME._**

_Well... OK, then. At least SOMEONE appreciates my bright ideas._

\--

Truthfully, Joker really _liked_ Cortez. It was somewhat of a relief to Jeff that at least _one_ of the people assigned to the retrofit had their priorities screwed on correctly. Steve was logical, kind, easy to talk to, never spoke down to anyone; he treated EDI like gold, even though he had apparently utterly bought into the fiction that she was 'just a VI'. Joker had cleared EDI to deal with him in the Shuttle Bay one-on-one, though he'd refused to do that for anyone else.

Out of all the new people he'd met in the last week, however, the one person Jeff found he simply could _not_ read was Cortez' friend: Lieutenant James Vega.

"What's shakin, Joker?" James breezed through the airlock, dropped this bon mot, and turned immediately to head to the elevator, on his way down to the Shuttle Bay to meet Cortez.

_At least when we first met, he had **four** words for me: 'How's it going, Joker?'_

"Well... no _bombs_ on the SR-2... lately... so nothing is 'shaking.' Bunch of _weird_ programming issues in the QEC, though. But hey: how important is it, _really_ , that the crew not end up stranded in deep space without orders?"

The huge man paused, four steps into the hallway that led into the CIC. Traynor looked up from her programming board, saw James, then blushed and dropped her gaze. Joker - watching her try to shrink into the workstation - figured if she thought 'I'M NOT HERE' any louder she might _actually_ disappear.

Jeff spun back around, wondering if Vega would take the bait. Wondering if the big man would share anything he heard with the Commander. Wondering if _maybe_ Shepard had figured out a way to turn her bodyguard into something of a friend; Lord knows Joker hadn't managed it with Astrid or Fredrick.

"Programming issues?" The deep voice was directly behind Joker's leather flight chair.

In Jeff's mind he heard the sound of a reel letting out, then a splash as something tugged on the line. _GOTCHA._

"Yeah, Specialist Samantha back there has been chasing bugs in the QEC all damn day."

_Because EDI has been releasing bugs all damn day, but whaddareyagonnado._

"Bug-hunt, huh? Because the system is just that unstable, or... you think someone is doing something to muck it up?"

Joker spun around and eyed the Lieutenant.

_Uhhh... what is he thinking? What does he know?_

"As far as I can tell, it's a matter of taking one finicky Cerberus platform, adding new messaging software, new ship databases, and brand new long-distance quantum-entanglement technology; shake well and wait for the errors to float to the top. But I'm not a programmer."

The huge soldier arched a brow. Joker snorted. What was it with guards making that skeptical face at him? He wasn't an _actual_ felon.

_Not **yet** , anyway._

"And if I asked Shepard? What would a hacker say about it?"

Joker let his eyes go round and innocent. "I'm sure I don't know, Lieutenant."

_He thinks there's a chance in hell SHEPARD is doing this? Huh. Well... if we'd actually gotten her ON BOARD, maybe..._

"Riiiiiiighht." James turned to leave the Bridge. Joker forestalled him with the most incendiary thing he could think of that wouldn't get him punched. Probably.

"On that note - how is it going, Lieutenant? Was it love at first sight? She must _adore_ having someone dogging her every step."

The big man swung back around. His eyes narrowed.

 _ **Probably** won't get you punched, Joker._ Probably. _Crap, should I remind him how brittle my bones are?_

"I'm not doing that... anymore."

Joker blinked. "You mean you WERE at one point? Man, that probably made her crazy." He turned a bit to type into his board:

**JJM: How much LONGER, EDI?**

**_EDI: The prototype with be done transmitting in one minute and seventeen seconds, Jeff. It will reprogram Shepard's omni-tool to auto-send us an encrypted file upon upload. If it functions correctly, we will know that Lieutenant Vega's omni-tool gets close enough, for a long enough period of time, to Commander Shepard's omni-tool to transmit the required data. And that she has not constructed a separate firewall of her own design._**

James had eased his weight from one foot to the other. "Who would notice under all the _other_ crazy?"

Joker swiveled back around and smirked. "So she _did_ give you trouble." 

James met Joker's eyes with a level stare. "Some." Then his mouth relaxed into an impish grin. "And some not."

_Oh HELL no. There's **no** way in HELL she-_

"What are you implying, Lieutenant Vega?"

"Absolutely nothing, _Lieutenant_ Moreau. Just that sometimes she was nuts and made me nuts, and sometimes it... well... wasn't all that bad. But we haven't been spending much time together lately. So if you have anything to say to her, I suggest you message her dot-mil account. I hear it's back in business."

**JJM: EDI? Is it?**

**_EDI: It is. I'm sorry, Jeff. I thought you knew but were avoiding its usage due to your parallel legal troubles. It's been reactivated for approximately one hundred and two hours, forty-one minutes and eleven seconds._ **

"What are you working at, on your board?"

Joker wiped it, suddenly realizing that the dude might look like a big, dumb jock, but he didn't miss much.

"Just a back and forth with EDI, chasing the bugs. I can talk to you both at the same time."

Jeff didn't expect the reaction he got: the muscular frame straightened off the wall of the Bridge, its alertness increasing four-fold, eyes narrowed all over again.

_Uhhhhhh..._

"You know, when I first came on board to help with the Armory inventory, Shepard did say something rather odd..."

"Oh yeah? What was that?"

"She said 'Tell EDI I said hello.' " James looked over at the board, letting his right eyebrow creep up. "Why would she ask me to say hello to the ship's VI?"

 _Shit_.

**_EDI: I knew she hadn't forgotten about me. Our protocol has been delivered, Jeff. You can allow Lieutenant Vega to leave now._ **

**JJM: Great, EDI. A bit LATE, but-**

Joker ignored the next message that flashed up on his board in favor of turning all the way around to face James. "I don't know how much you've had occasion to speak with EDI, Lieutenant, but there's something you ought to know."

The big man leaned forward, just slightly, almost conspiratorially. "Should I, though? Really? Because I'm not sure I should."

_No way. He can't be THAT intuitive. I'll eat my hat if he actually knows._

Jeff also leaned forward. "I think Shepard was playing a joke on you. Because EDI has an insanely sexy voice and a lot of the Retrofit team are half in love with her." He leaned to the side and yelled into the CIC, "RIGHT, TRAYNOR?"

Traynor again looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. "Uh... right? I think? What was the question?"

Joker leaned back in his chair and said "Trust me. I'm right."

James also leaned away, arched that annoying brow again, and said "I've heard her a few times, in the Shuttle Bay. That must be it. Sure. The sexy voice."

The seductive murmur that came out of Joker's console was even raspier than normal. "Why, thank you, Lieutenant Vega. You have a very nice voice, too."

\--

**From: Lt. Jeff 'Joker' Moreau (j_moreau@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 15.06.2186. 20:29 MST  
Subject: WHAT. THE. SHIT.  
Message: This will be read by every technician in the Alliance in the most minute detail, anyway, so screw it. You (a) need to stop dodging bombs and take this Reaper Thing seriously, (b) need to get clearance from Hackett or Anderson to help me with some of the platform integration programming glitches, even if they're too stupid to let you actually COME ON BOARD the Normandy, and (c) need to be careful around that Vega creature. He's, uh... intense. And smarter than he looks.**

**Though I suppose that's not hard, amiright?**

**~Joker**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the _Buffy_ reference! And the _Aliens_ reference! And the _Independence Day_ reference! And the _Star Wars_ reference! And yes, I'm OLD!
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed a new POV. and find my Joker-POV voice somewhat decent (i'm pleased with it). i've also decided what the factor tying each chapter together will be, and i'm sort of pleased about that, too.
> 
> onward to the Galaxy Map!


	3. CIC: The Galaxy Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have lived most of my life surrounded by my enemies. I would be grateful to die surrounded by my friends.” ~ Guardians of the Galaxy

For the first time in years, Tom wasn't looking forward to his new assignment, didn't know if he could pull off his new (old) cover. As much as it hurt to admit, he _missed_ Princess Ave. He missed Tomas Zavala. And that was... unheard of.

Maybe... it was because he'd allowed himself to use his real first name? That had probably been a mistake.

Maybe it was Vega.

\--

Tom _occasionally_ wondered - not _seriously_ , mind you, but, you know, _idly_ \- if he was a bit, well, _sexist_.

On the one hand, the thought was _preposterous_. One day he was pretending to be some sort of machismo-driven construction worker, the next an elegant fop, speaking an entirely different language, eating entirely different foods, wanting entirely different things. He was egalitarian to his CORE. He'd been born to the streets. He'd been schooled in the next thing to a monastery, raised by - well - sort of a cult, then trained by _Asari_ (who didn't even _have_ males). _He knew_ gender and competence had no correlation.

_But..._

He was clear enough in his sexual preference now to understand there was a through line, that he was attracted to men who were big and strong, and women who were, well, _feminine_. And in _some_ circles... he supposed _some people_ might call that 'sexist.' 

But... it was what he was attracted to.

He sighed, looking out over the water. The Pacific was rough today; maybe a storm blowing in; he hadn't actually checked the weather forecast. Still, no squall was going to prevent them from leaving later. Not much could. 

_More's the pity._

He shifted against the rail, remembering...

It wasn't that he _wouldn't_ have made a play for Shepard... if he'd thought he had a rat's chance in hell. While knowing how Kaidan felt about her made even the few fantasies he'd indulged in feel a bit... _illicit_ \- he'd still HAD them. Yet, a week later - no time at all to contemplate making a move, really, since she'd been in solitary the entire time - the Admirals tossed Vega into her cell... and that window utterly closed. And why wouldn't she cleave to Vega? _Tom_ had been smitten, too. There was something about that mix of strength and vulnerability that probably appealed to a _broad range_ of people.

Or... he and Shepard were _WAY_ more alike than Tom wanted to admit at this particular moment.

The difference was that Vega wanted _her_ back. If Anderson was to be believed, the teenage Vega had cut his Marine teeth on vids of Elysium. Thrown into a room with your adolescent crush, why the fuck wouldn't you go for it, if you found out they were amenable?

Tom stared out at the ocean, imagining last Saturday night so clearly, how it felt to stumble home, watching his back-trail, leaking stab wounds in every eight square centimeters of his abdomen, desperately trying to hold a Stasis field on himself (exactly as the Matriarchs had relentlessly drilled him to do) and then listening to Shepard and Vega _argue_ over whether or not he was going to the hospital... even as they both worked desperately to stop the bleeding and save his life. He remembered his last thought before falling unconscious was that - while he was _grateful_ they both cared about him - he was fucking envious of how passionately enamored they were of each other.

It was a damn shame. A _waste_ , too, probably. Because Vega was the jealous sort, and the man sharing the balcony with Tom _wasn't_. At least, not any more. Oh, Tom had heard stories about their time on the SR-1, and how hot it had gotten between Alenko and T'Soni at one point... as if _Shepard_ wasn't too uptight to ever want to mate with an Asari.

Kaidan was very different now. Maybe it took the love of your life _dying in front of you_ to gain perspective. If so, Tom was willing to _retain_ his narrowness of thought, desire, and _all_ his flaws, because he rather thought it was a long shot that Cerberus would pay quite so much to bring **Vega** back to life.

 _What the fuck am I saying? I'm not in_ LOVE. _Not like the pathetic specimen next to me, anyway._

Somewhere on the Citadel, this time tomorrow, some tall, strapping lad with an exotic accent - or perhaps a delicate beauty with long blond hair and significant womanly assets - would give him a moment of side-eye... and his libido would come raging back. Then he'd forget all about this insane crush on James. 

At least... it had always worked like that in the past. So that's how it always _would_ work. It especially _had_ to work that way now because he was pretty damn sure _Vega loved Shepard_. Even if the idiot wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

Tom turned slightly, hip sliding on the railing, to look at the handsome older man beside him.

He knew that none of this was what Kaidan wanted to hear right now. Though... it might be what the other biotic _needed_ to hear. Still, Tom couldn't do it. He _could_ however, spill his _own_ guts about James, allow Kaidan to do his 'soulful caring healing' routine, and maybe get him to feel better _that_ way.

Alenko was headed out of the spy business, whether he realized it or not, and Tom blamed Shepard. There was an _edge_ necessary to the game, a willingness to subsume who you were and what you wanted. Kaidan just didn't have it any more. He'd lost it, Tom was certain, somewhere on Horizon. The last seven months had merely been the death throws of a life that never really fit Alenko.

Ultimately it was all for the best, since Tom suspected Anderson and Hackett had other plans for their newly-minted Major. He didn't know how they were supposed to spy on the damn _Council_ , but Kaidan's position was, at least, legitimate.

And Tom would go back to the way he liked to be... functionally invisible.

But he was going to miss Zavala, and Osorío, and Shepard (even though she scared him to death with her _huge_ energy field and her _horrid_ control of it.)

_And I'm really going to miss James._

\--

Kaidan hadn't moved much in the last half hour, sipping beer, looking out over the Pacific. He'd listened, commiserated, but ultimately opined that Tom should have known better.

_Well... DUH._

"Just... don't fall for one of them, Tom", he advised. "They're not like us."

"I agree that Shepard's powers are insane. She's also too high-strung, not to mention a huge pain in the ass. But Vega... is different. He's... delightful. Funny. Warm. Solid. Incredibly smart... but not pretentious. The crass body-builder-jock thing is camouflage. Though, it's effective enough. Certainly as effective as anything you or I would have developed to go undercover."

Kaidan grimaced. "You're going to get your heart broken."

Tom shrugged. "I was almost positive he's not into men. He was shocked when I mentioned it."

Alenko blinked and turned to look at the Vanguard. " If you _knew_ , why-"

"Had to take a shot. Would have regretted it if I didn't even ask."

Kaidan sighed and took a swig of beer. "I'm pretty sure... it's not just his sexual preference."

"You mean that he's in love with Shepard?" Tom replied, with a calculated lack of tact. "Yeah... there's that, too."

The older biotic closed his eyes. Tom wondered if he were trying to block out the rolling stormy beauty of the sea. "Talk about ending up with a broken heart."

Tom bit his lip and tentatively reached out one arm to briefly hug his superior officer. Just once, here, where no one who mattered could see it. Then he let go. "Question is... did you break yours?"

Kaidan snorted sadly. "Three times now. Same girl."

\--

Tom went from sincerely regretting having to leave Earth (and the people he'd come to care for) to seriously wishing they could just _leave already_. He knew it was over-dramatic, but god _damn_ , their progress was dragging so badly it was like someone had shoved _him_ into a Null Room.

Once their maudlin lunch at The Troller Ale House ended (several more craft beers later), an Alliance shuttle arrived from the West Vancouver shipyards. They were supposed to be transported directly to the freighter, but it turned out that - _DUE TO WEATHER_ \- their shuttle was going to be picking up several other Alliance officials bound for the Citadel.

As he shoved over yet again, Tom reckoned that it had better be his last move.

_If we pick up even one more person I'll be sitting in Alenko's lap, and that maneuver didn't go over well the first - and last - time I tried it._

"This is ridiculous," Kaidan murmured, trying to keep his voice low enough so that only Tom would hear it, though the man in the jump seat directly across from him looked at him sharply. "We can not squeeze even one more person into this shuttle unless three of us stand, and that's a definite safety hazard if we decelerate too quickly at the yard."

Tom rolled his eyes. _Safety hazard. Yeah, that's what I'm worrying about right now. Not the fact that at least two of the humans already onboard haven't bathed in **days.**_

He abruptly pictured Shepard as she exited the Null room, pathetically grateful for the possibility of finally getting a shower, observing the state of the slum they were moving to and gamely shoving aside her personal needs in favor of cleaning up the apartment. Turning it into a real home. Then his memory supplied him with the image of himself directly after he'd escaped a repression chamber. How - once he'd bought his way out, three days later - he'd vowed to _NEVER AGAIN_ go **even one damn day** without bathing. And he hadn't. He'd even showered while still full of holes, after the attack last Saturday.

Of course... he'd also been full of medigel and under a Stasis. And he'd had... some _help_ , which had been pretty god-damn nice. Whether he'd strictly needed it... or not.

_FUCK. I need to get off this fucking planet. I need to start turning myself back into Aurel Lehmann, Asari-trained escort/servant/personal assistant extraordinaire. I need to stop remembering the feel of Vega carrying me around the apartment. Stop imagining those arms lifting me and pinning me against a wall, while-_

Kaidan shifted suddenly, breaking Tom's absorption in a fantasy he'd been reliving since the morning he woke up from being stabbed, and forcing him to realize _he'd_ been restlessly sliding around in the twenty centimeters of seat-space he'd been allotted. **Fuck.**

"We need to get on that freighter, Tom, so deal with it." Kaidan again lowered his voice. "And watch your language. Your new persona doesn't have the mouth of a sailor."

_Great. Now I'm thinking out loud. Where is my fucking vaunted CONTROL? Easy to criticize Shepard, right, Tom? Easy to point a finger. What's your god damn excuse? Not like they shoved **you** in a null field for OVER a damn week._

He instinctively began to shift in the seat again, feeling stifled, needing _room_ , and then forced himself still. _Fucking hell. Part of me wishes I could have had Liara tiptoe through MY brain, while she was at it._

That, of course, would have been utterly impossible. Tom had been very careful to look extra bohemian when he knew T'Soni would be arriving. And for every meal after. He'd been letting his hair, mustache, and beard grow for multiple reasons, but the timing of the dark shagginess was purposeful. With the chocolate-colored contact lenses, darker skin, ripped T-shirts, tattoos, and generally-inappropriate human flirtatiousness, Tom was pretty sure he'd flown completely under her radar. He was fairly certain she lacked Shepard's weird ability to memorize energy signatures at a hundred paces.

And it wasn't like he'd ever been intimate with _Liara_. 

Just her mother.

\--

Tom _also_ had to admit that - for the first time in a long time - he didn't really understand his new assignment.

Oh, he'd read the file: a huge dust-up in Citadel Security, and brand-spanking-new Councilor Donnel Udina at the heart of it. Tom assumed Anderson and Hackett had been only too pleased to slide the handsome, politically-astute, soft-spoken, newly-promoted _Major_ Kaidan Alenko into the Human Embassy. And it made sense to flatter Udina (who was quite partial to the idea) by giving him his own pet PsiOps operative. The only requirement Udina had was that the selected person have their 'powers _well-controlled_ ', and 'wouldn't in any way be a _risk_.'

Which would have disqualified Shepard, even if she hadn't been on trial currently. And that had probably been the point.

Tom rolled his eyes. He just didn't see why _he_ was going. _To send in_ two _of us seems like overkill._

But once they finally got to the freighter and were completely _alone_ in a room for the first time since Princess Ave, Kaidan explained that no one at the Citadel would know about Tom. Kaidan was the decoy, the 'expected' biotic who would basically be a showpiece; this was actually _Tom's_ investigation.

"So, wait... assistant to _whom_?"

"Armando-Owen Bailey. You'll officially be joining C-Sec; Udina only knows that I'm shuttling in a new hire."

"I read the file. Bailey ended up having to shoot the Executor. I thought it seemed a bit odd that Pallin would have resisted arrest so... _fatally_. I mean, certainly if he were innocent, why do that? Or was it just that he didn't want to be arrested by a mere _human_?"

Tom had read _Venari Pallin's_ file, too.

"I don't think it's that cut-and-dried, honestly. Bailey was in charge of Zakera Ward. And whatever corruption Udina - supposedly - uncovered... it went down in Zakera." Kaidan sighed loudly, and Tom realized for the first time that Alenko was actually pretty _angry_. "That it ended with Bailey in charge of _all_ of C-Sec _reeks_ of blackmail-then-payoff." Kaidan gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "But all we know for _sure_ is that _something_ happened in Zakera, which was _Bailey's_ turf, and it implicated Executor Pallin. They tried to arrest him, he resisted arrest, and Bailey shot him. That's all on the record. There's even vid." Kaidan's mouth pinched further. "But as you also saw in the file, some of the more... _buried_ records suggest that Pallin was just as shocked as Bailey at finding evidence of his _own corruption_."

Tom nodded his head slowly. "You think Bailey is dirty."

Alenko sighed again, more quietly. "We don't know that. If I'd gotten the damn file even two days earlier, I _might_ have asked Eliza what she thought of Bailey, because _she_ had dealings with him when he was still in charge of Zakera." Kaidan glanced around the room. "Maybe it's better that I didn't, though. From what Anderson told me, she got her military credentials back this morning, so she'll have accessed the entire damn extranet by now. We don't need to take _any_ chance of your cover leaking before we even get there. Try to remember that Aurel _never met Shepard._ "

Tom sniffed. As if he were a neophyte. "Yes, Dad."

Alenko raised both brows: his anger only smoldering, not truly banked. "I _mean_ it, Tom. You need to break that chain. The information could be huge, but Eliza has almost ZERO poker face. Every damn thing she feels hits the surface, for good or for ill. It can be a huge asset: she comes off as... _strident_. **Authentic**. But the fact that she doesn't even know _how_ to lie has been... inconvenient, at times."

 _He's **still** calling her 'Eliza', doesn't even_ hear _himself, and **I'm** the one who has to 'break the chain'?_

Kaidan was speaking again. "-hushed up part. It's strictly need-to-know, and the actual details weren't in the file, so pay attention. Several months back, Admiral Anderson and his associate Kahlee Sanders got a firm lead on Cerberus infiltration of the Citadel. They brought that information to the Turian Ambassador - likely because Udina has always been so antagonistic to Anderson - and _Councilor Orinia_ went to Executor Pallin. Apparently they knew each other fairly well; they served together in the Turian military. Pallin took it seriously enough to recruit a small group of trustworthy _Turian_ officers inside C-Sec... specifically to combat _internal_ corruption."

Tom blinked. _OK... **Now** this is getting interesting._

Alenko lowered his voice still further; he was almost whispering, despite the fact that the first thing Tom had done in their cabin on the freighter was run Osorio's Bug-Away scanning program. He was pretty damn sure no one was listening to them. "Anderson thinks it's possible that Pallin was set up _because he helped spearhead an offensive against Cerberus_." Kaidan snorted quietly. "Of course his anti-human views probably made the entire matter a bit easier for whoever did it. My gut is telling me we _absolutely need_ to know if Cerberus was involved in taking him out, but it's also telling me _of course they were_."

Tom slowly shook his head, considering it from all angles. "You really think Bailey could have ties to Cerberus for _years_ , and no one knew? It seems more likely it's someone new, right? Someone Cerberus sneaked in... like you're sneaking me in? Or, maybe someone else that Udina was _flattered_ to add to his new staff?"

Kaidan also shook his head. "They would almost certainly have had to have been in place when _Anderson_ was still technically Ambassador... before he basically told Udina to 'take this job and shove it'." Kaidan quoted an old Earth saying that made Tom snort in appreciation.

"Is that what happened?"

Alenko shrugged. "Close enough."

Tom felt his brows furrow as he thought it through. "Maybe someone who worked their way onto the Embassy staff right as Pallin's investigation was beginning, before Anderson quit in a huff, and well before Bailey was even in the picture? Damn, Kaidan, they're probably _long_ gone."

Kaidan nodded glumly. "Perhaps. But the fingerprints will still be there. And you'll find them." He rolled his eyes. "Even if you have to sleep your way through three Consulates."

Tom laid a hand on his chest and faked a look of affront. _"Moi?"_

Kaidan snorted again, and then heaved a deep sigh, before throwing himself onto one of the bunks. "Yes, you. Not me. Never again me." He let his eyes flutter closed. "If I couldn't bring myself to do it _before_ Horizon, and I couldn't bring myself to do it _after_ Horizon, you can bet your sweet ass I can't do it now." He let his eyes close. "I never thought _anything_ could come close to how bad that week in the Nebula was, but this past week proved me wrong. I may be ready to get out, Tom."

 _Das weiss ich, mein Herr, aber Sie sind gerade zu wichtig._ Tom shook himself. _English, Tom. ENGLISH. Mein Gott. My brain is fried._

"I know... Sir. I think Anderson knows, too."

Kaidan allowed his head to loll in the direction that caused his eyes to meet Tom's. "I meant what I said, Tom: you need to let them go. And... I'll try to do the same." Kaidan rotated his neck until he was staring at the ceiling again. "One more job."

_Yeah, I'll just forget 'em over the course of a two-hour flight. Not like Shepard was one of the most amazing people - or one of the most powerful biotics - I've ever met, or anything. Not like I didn't half fall-in-love with Vega. Not like Osorio isn't **in a coma** right now because of my failure to expeditiously take out my target. That's the plan; I'll just... forget 'em._

He laid down in his bunk and tried not to wonder how many more jobs he had left inside _him_.

\--

Tom found a _bit_ of comfort in recovering part of himself for the job.

He'd shed his real name again (which was annoying) but he'd gotten to recover the name he'd used on Thessia, and that name came with _cred_. Having been trained by Lady Benezia, even for a mere few months, was a huge coup... as far as the smattering of Asari who _might_ recognize him on the Citadel were concerned. 

He'd also reverted to Aurel's skin, hair, and eye colors (better known as Tom's _natural_ coloring). To strip off all the itchy tattoos, to not have to wear (and _clean_ ) the damn contact lenses, to not be feeling the _constant_ subtle stickiness of hair dye brushing his neck, to get to _shave_ , to look in the mirror and _recognize_ Tom (if not be _called_ Tom)?

All gifts.

Currently, Tom was practicing Aurel's expressions in the mirror of the bathroom attached to their cabin. Aurel never smirked; he smiled knowingly. It was all in the eyes. Aurel wasn't assured; he was shyly optimistic. Again, eyes. Aurel wasn't known to be a shrewd and practiced lover, yet every new conquest felt like the light blond escort was now their ideal partner, due in no small part to their _own_ attractiveness. 

And so on.

Long ago, Aurel had come to the conclusion that the Asari liked blue eyes. Maybe it had just been Aurel's particular shade of violet-blue, but Tom's natural eye color had always attracted more than his fair share of Asari attention. And - once he fired up the biotic field - it had been something of a smorgasbord, especially for a mere human. _Maybe_ he'd stupidly rubbed some noses in it; he'd been young, after all. But the majority of his male year-mates had been downright _pissy_ over the fact that Aurel screwed his way through school. Some of them had been _exceedingly_ cute, and he would have been just as pleased to have shown them exactly how to get an Asari's attention, but _OH WELL._

_Then again... most of them probably just wanted to be able to say they'd fucked an Asari. As if coming to Thessia for special schooling meant they were - what - **entitled** have to sex with one?_

And hell, at least none of _them_ had caved to flattery (coercion? _logic?_ ) and now had two six-year old daughters running around that they'd never been allowed to meet.

\--

Tonight was one of those times that Aurel - likely because he was absolutely _surrounded_ by Asari again - couldn't stop reminiscing about Benezia. How lovely she'd been. How often she'd worn some sun-colored gown (as if it didn't absolutely clash with her skin) and how many times she'd verbally smacked him for teasing her about it. How powerful she'd been. How demanding and _exacting_ she'd been, in her training regime.

_And in bed._

For a young human male, the latter had frankly been a RUSH.

Aurel had known he'd never again meet anyone like her. She'd been the epitome by which he ranked every mentor afterward, including Kaidan.

_Of course, Kaidan refused to sleep with me, which - points off right there._

When he'd first read reports of her having succumbed to mental coercion - what they were calling _indoctrination_ \- aboard the 'ship' Saren had named _Sovereign_ , he hadn't believed it. It had taken meeting Kaidan Alenko and hearing about Benezia's activities (as well as her demise) firsthand, to begin to believe.

When he'd first seen Shepard, while they were processing her, watching them take such care to not _set her off_ (as if she was, what, an _actual_ explosive device) until they could get her into containment, he'd realized her energy field was seriously impressive. But Tom knew that much of his cautiousness around Shepard was the knowledge that the Commander had killed a knowledgeable and _powerful_ Matriarch. Given that Kaidan and Benezia's own daughter had _also_ been present, the combinations and explosions must have been-

Aurel winced, sipping his drink, trying to decide if he actually _wanted_ to bed anyone tonight.

 _And SpecOps wondered why - even though I desperately wanted to meet her - I joined Shepard's detail with a bit of trepidation. Being Wilcott was easy, but meeting Shepard was... Hell, how can Kaidan not understand how fucking_ dangerous _she is? That he's a lot_ safer _without her?_

Of course, after only two days of working as Bailey's adjunct, Aurel knew that he was leaving a _choice_ source of information to dry on the vine if he didn't find a way to interface with Shepard. And it didn't take a quantum physicist to realize that he was grasping at ANY excuse to send a message to his old life.

Especially one part of his old life.

\--

He was hips-deep in a Sergent he'd picked up after the Asari Consulate function, arms wrapped around the man's torso, fingers firmly grasping his cock, when he finally made up his mind.

_Fuck it. I miss them. I miss **him**. And there HAS to be a way to fly under the radar._

There. He was at peace with it.

And Aurel went back to what (who) he was doing.

\--

**From: Aurel Lehmann (aurel_lehmann@c-sec.net)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 15.06.2186. 00:43 CST  
Subject: friends in the service  
Message: Hope I have the correct address! My NEW BOSS bragged about you today and I was _dying_ to find out the TRUTH. I found it hard to believe he knew YOU. I mean... I can _imagine_ knowing you in, like, another life or something, but that's just a _fantasy_. You know what I mean? Anyway if you really DO know a certain Captain Bailey, drop me a line back? There's MONEY riding on it!**

**I mean, if you actually see this message, and it doesn't just end up going into your TRASH or some DEAD account.**

**~ Aurel Lehmann, C-Sec**

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 14.06.2186. 15:47 MST  
Subject: Can't log in here often; may be one-time deal.  
Message: You know: C-Sec monitors communications pretty damn thoroughly, even those of their employees? Maybe _especially_ those of their employees. Still, if Shepard can't - or doesn't care to - write me up a _coded_ answer at Aurel's sign-in, tell her to send any information she has on Bailey _here_ , but from her official .mil account. Tell her NOT to use that stupid 'jaiola' ID to contact me ANY where, under ANY circumstance. It's not cool for me to be receiving messages from totally anon servers.**

**OK, business over. Do you miss me?**

**More seriously... I had word that they pulled Osorio out of his coma yesterday. Is he... OK? Though... I don't know why I'm asking when - even if you answer - it may be a week before I can afford to risk a hacker sneaking me into this account again (without someone at C-Sec knowing twenty seconds later).**

**And I had to sleep with the last hacker. That's performance pressure, right there. You know how hackers are.**

****

****

**Or don't you?**

**~Tom**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, travel! i don't know what to do about travel, because - as you may or may not have notice - there's a lot of hard timeline-stuff missing from the Mass Effect world. i went with the assumption that freighters (which Kaidan and Tom catch)/second-class transport would take a LOT longer to get a person from point A to point B than starships (possessed of warp cores and priority travel through relays). this is why i have their transfer to the Citadel taking _hours_ , when my calculation is that it would actually be a fairly fast trip for the _Normandy_.
> 
> \--
> 
> there's another mini-mystery in this chapter. a lot of this story information is from the **canon** stories behind Udina's takeover on the Citadel (in the Wiki, Mass Effect: Retribution, and Mass Effect: Inquisition).
> 
> \--
> 
> A Note On Sexuality and Characterization:
> 
> i hope it's coming across (loud and clear) that Tom has a TON of problems, but being bisexual is NOT one of them. i don't in ANY way consider bisexuality to be equivalent to promiscuity. _Tom, however, is both bisexual AND promiscuous._
> 
> His backstory is (in some ways) a lot worse than Shepard's, and yet also (in some ways) not as bad... since the foster home that eventually took him at 17 treated him somewhat decently: they took him out of a life of petty crime, and educated him well. _however_... they also trafficked him for over a year (what can i say, biotics have it pretty bad in my canon universe). Tom's 'foster mother', however, also applied for him to enter a special gifted school on Thessia, and then paid his tuition. did they expect he'd come back to Earth and keep working for them? absolutely. are we ecstatic that that he ran away to Eden Prime (and other places), met Kaidan, and finally joined PsiOps, so now we get to know him? YES.
> 
> is Tom f-d up? _absolutely_. would he be messed up if he was hetero or homo-sexual? _yes._
> 
> \--
> 
> the German: Das weiss ich, mein Herr, aber Sie sind gerade zu wichtig ~ I know that, Sir, but you're too important right now.


	4. CIC: The QEC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When one's young, it seems very easy to distinguish between right and wrong. But, as one gets older, it becomes more difficult. The villains and the heroes get all mixed up.” ~ Quantum of Solace

_This is what happens when you agree to work on a Sunday._

Anderson read through his hard copy of the disciplinary report again. Just to indulge his sense of irony, he lined it up on his desk with the formal parchment document he'd been about to sign.

_You **knew**. You knew, when you pulled him off Omega, that he was as prone to bouts of drinking and violence, as he was to compassion and quick, smart decision-making._

David sighed loudly. _But how was I to know he'd manage to indulge both halves of his service record in_ less _than **seventy-two hours?**_.

\--

**_Jr. Lieutenant James Vega. Silver Star, Heroics Under Fire. Actions resulting in significant reduction in civilian casualties; approximately 250,000 lives saved._**

...

**_Vega, James - Jr. Lieutenant. Assigned to Anderson, David - Admiral. Local law enforcement arrest for drunken brawling on Saturday June 12th, 2186. Released after bail posted by Lieutenant Steve Cortez. Alvarez, Horatio - Jr. Lieutenant, assigned to Hackett, Steven - Admiral, 5th Fleet, admitted to Medical Bay in Hopkins Unit for treatment, refused to press charges. Suspect pay docked for civilian repairs. Hearing pending unless Alliance intervention._**

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 11:10 MST  
Subject: EXPLAIN SATURDAY  
Message: (empty)**

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 15:47 MST  
Subject: Re: EXPLAIN SATURDAY  
Message: It was my fault. I don't really have an explanation, other than there was alcohol on all sides, and some of Alvarez's buddies said some things that I found objectionable, being bald-faced lies. After I asked them three times to kindly shut the hell up, and they continued to - say what they were saying - I did in fact begin the fight. I only meant to manhandle Lieutenant Fellers, at first. But Private Houston stepped in, and I threw him out the door. I also punched Sergent King a couple times, after he repeated something the Lieutenant had said... and, well, that's when I took down Alvarez, too. As you may have seen on the vid, Horatio was the only one who really (sort of) fought back; the others (sort of) fled. So hopefully the damage was limited to the Half Moon Saloon and Grill.**

**And, uh, Alvarez.**

**How is he, btw?**

**~James**

\--

It was late afternoon on Sunday. David returned home to his apartment, poured two fingers of Scotch whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler, and had _just_ sat down in a lounge chair on his deck... when his omni-tool played an ominous tone: the sound of a certain Jr. Lieutenant messaging him. Anderson checked the chron and snorted.

_Probably just woke up from sleeping it off._

He took a deep breath, carefully set his whiskey down on the floor of the deck, and stretched his neck out. Then and only then did he read Vega's message... and began to smack his head gently against the wall behind his chair.

_No word about what they said, but this is about Shepard again; I know it. Now I have to track down the damn vid._

\--

**From: Wanda Simmons, Manager (manager_simmons@admin.HalfMoon.com)  
To: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 18:21 PST  
Subject: Requested video surveillance footage  
Message: At _Half Moon Saloon and Grill_ , we have the highest regard for our serving line officers, and support the Alliance's efforts to protect our planet to the fullest. Please accept our invitation, Admiral Anderson, to come inspect the repairs personally, and bring this message with you to receive _half off_ your next meal!**

**{attachment: 12.06.2186.2238-2249.vid}**

\--

Half Moon's reply hit his datapad while he was eating dinner. With a sigh, Anderson slid his fork onto his plate, wiped grease off his fingers, and hit the "Play" arrow on the attachment.

The miscreants in question were front-and-center, and David took a moment to be impressed with the bar's camera coverage. Alvarez had clearly been having some food with one of his friends; there were plates on the bar in front of two of the men. Anderson grumbled to himself that he wished Half Moon hadn't taken his request for a 'video of the fight' quite so literally; he would have preferred the video covered at least ten-fifteen minutes _before_ the physical stuff started. But it was about to begin.

Vega came into frame just behind Alvarez, and Anderson could _barely_ hear him ask something about Shepard. He paused the video, cranked up the volume, and re-started it.

\--

"Alvarez. I thought you and I had an understanding regarding Commander Shepard, but here your buddies all are, talking shit about how you spent the night with her. Twice."

Horatio clearly swallowed hard; his Adam's Apple bobbed with the force of his sudden concern for his welfare. "I _told_ Fellers nothing happened. She thinks of me as 'that _other kid_ I got saddled with', so- it doesn't matter that we ended up alone together the last two nights."

\--

Anderson hit the "Stop" button. He shut his eyes in sheer disgust, and made a mental note to inform Hackett that Alvarez was a fool. _Not_ what they'd wanted for Shepard's team. Yeah, the alcohol could probably take some of the blame; there were at least three empties on the bar waiting to be collected, but-

No wonder he wasn't pressing charges. He probably felt like an idiot. And he hadn't even seen the vid.

David hit 'Play' again.

\--

By the uniform, a man who must have been Lieutenant Fellers opened his mouth to say - who knows what - and Vega caught him around the throat, half-carrying, half-dragging him to the door, then _shoving_ him outside with such force that he nearly tumbled into the street. A ground transport honked in loud dismay.

James didn't even say anything more than "If you know what's good for you, you'll go home," before turning to the man who'd just thrown an alcohol-fueled punch at him from behind (and missed). The man went sailing out the door after Fellers, but in a far less-controlled fashion - ass over tea-kettle - as he was smaller, lighter, and (perhaps) because he had dared to take a swing.

The next uniformed man stepped up and opened his mouth. "I know what they say about officers - especially **biotic** officers - being insatiable, but I didn't think it was _true_ until today. Are you pissed off she went _even younger_ , or what?"

\--

David quickly froze the image again. He felt himself wincing hard, and acknowledged being a _little_ surprised all of these men were still alive.

_OK, wait. You went from wanting to scold him for his lack of self-control, to wanting to congratulate him on the strength of his self-control, **awfully** quickly. Perspective: he **needs** to be able to eat comments like this and not endanger a bar full of civilians._

But damn if it wasn't fun to watch him defend Eliza's honor.

_Ahem._

\--

The one with the mouth got punched in it, a hard, fast, right-left jab combination that left blood trickling from his upper lip where his teeth had cut him. He also looked... almost dazed. He sat - quite abruptly - and missed his chair entirely. He ended up on the floor, chairs tipping over as he crashed down.

Alvarez clearly looked reluctant, but gamely stood up and attempted to prevent James from kicking the crap out of Sergent King. The grip he placed on Vega's shoulder was, however, _laughable_. James grasped Horatio's hand, twisted, and brought the Lieutenant to his knees, all in one smooth motion.

"Take. It. Back."

"Take _what_ back? I didn't **say** any of it!"

"Then tell the entire damn bar that you were entrusted with the safety of one of the brightest and bravest officers in the Alliance, had the _privilege_ of being alone with her, maybe felt _flattered_ by her attention... and didn't have the _balls_ to correct the record and confront your friends over their _lack of respect._ "

Horatio suddenly _howled_ with pain...

\--

And that was when David realized Vega had broken Alvarez' shoulder. He winced again, quickly hitting 'Stop.'

_Damn akito. Damn ju-jitsu. He's a **tank** , and he moves like a ninja._

David sighed. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. And hit 'Play' for the last time.

\--

Howling. And more howling. Finally there were some gasping whimpers, and Horatio coughed out "I should have stopped them. I told you - nothing h-h-happened. They've been riding me for d-days about how I get choice assignments, but I _should_ have told them to shut the fuck up about her! I'm sorry! _Fucking_ let **GO**!"

And Vega did. He also righted the chairs that had tipped over and warned the patrons close by to be careful of the broken glass and ceramic shards, from the tableware that had fallen off the bar when he'd grabbed Alvarez. He even hoisted the unfortunate Sergent King up off the floor and back onto one of the chairs.

\--

 _Incredible. I've seen more damage to a place after a_ wedding _breaks up. Vega was actually pretty damn careful._

Anderson rubbed his forehead, and decided he needed to calmly finish his steak and think all of it through. _Before_ he started sending emails.

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Wanda Simmons, Manager (manager_simmons@admin.HalfMoon.com)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 18:57 MST  
Subject: Re: Requested video surveillance footage  
Message: While I've seen more damage happen to an eating establishment after a rowdy wedding, I have no doubt glasses and plates cost more to replace when an officer breaks them. The Alliance has already interceded on behalf of the arrested officer. Lt. James Vega is the same man who prevented a large explosive device from destroying part of Vancouver four nights ago; we formally apologize for the fact that he chose to blow off steam at your establishment. Rest assured that we will be letting our servicepeople know that they should steer clear of _Half Moon Saloon and Grill._**

**Best regards,**

**Admiral David Edward Anderson**

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 18:59 MST  
Subject: Forwarded vid of bar 'fight.' And recommendations.  
Message: I put 'fight' in quotation marks because - as you'll see in the video - there was almost no fight. However, Vega did break Alvarez's shoulder with a joint lock I'm positive he didn't learn in Basic.**

 **In my estimation (given his past sentiments, current assignment, and his obvious stress level) he was provoked. I'm impressed there wasn't more damage; the bar has probably seen more rowdiness from a halfway-decent bachelor party. I have already messaged the manager, informing her that we take such matters very seriously, and will advise all our soldiers to avoid their establishment.**

**I'm expecting Ms. Simmons will video-chat me in ten minutes or less.**

**~D**

**PS: I'm afraid Alvarez has the intelligence of a tree stump and should be removed from Shepard's team. 'Medical leave' is a fine cover. Although... that makes _two_ , now.**

**{attachment: 12.06.2186.2238-2249.vid}**

\--

The anticipated request to video-chat came through from Half Moon, and Anderson ignored it in favor of spooning up his lingonberry pie.

_Chat with my VI service, Ms. Simmons._

He was nearing the end of his piece of pie when his datapad played the refrain of something he'd always thought of as 'flamenco music', as befitted a man from Argentina.

_That was fast._

\--

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 19:14 MST  
Subject: Re: Forwarded vid of bar 'fight.' And recommendations.  
Message: That was demolition, not a fight. Re: Alvarez, notified earlier just dislocation. Clean it up, my authority. Alvarez is out; I'll inform him tomorrow. You tell Vega.**

**SH**

**PS: Hell, David: did you know he could move like that when you brought him in for Shepard?**

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 19:16 MST  
Subject: Yup.  
Message: Why do you think I chose him? Remind me to show you the video of Omega at some point. I believe I have the only copy now.**

**~D**

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 20:07 MST  
Subject: Slight Altercation  
Message: I wanted to be the one to inform you of an incident last night, and assure you that it's been taken care of. No one is pressing charges: not the bar, nor Alvarez or any of his cronies. Alvarez' shoulder was only dislocated, though when I first watched the vid, I swore I heard a snap.**

**See you tomorrow,**

**David.**

**{attachment: 12.06.2186.2238-2249.vid}**

\--

Anderson spent Monday morning tapping his fingers on the tabletop, nervously waiting for Eliza to show up for her hearing.

When she _finally_ arrived (precisely at 07:00), he intermittently held his breath until Hackett managed to gain and keep control of the questioning. He ate lunch not with her, but with two of the Generals on the Defense Committee, trying to gauge how they were taking the testimony about the night of the bombing. They seemed to be appropriately appalled at Sinclair, and impressed by his team.

_Damn straight. If Shepard hadn't been just that quick on her feet, and just that powerful of a biotic, that first bomb probably would have killed dozens of people. It's good that everyone knows it now. Conclusively._

Anderson himself was still quietly incensed at how biotic Marines were viewed. Alenko had complained, more than once, that this sort of sentiment came and went on a regular schedule, and Anderson was finally being forced to agree. It was infuriating. Given how incredibly _useful_ his biotic team members were, they deserved far more recognition. And trust.

When the hearing resumed, Shepard seemed noticeably calmer, almost zen. She'd eaten lunch with Hackett and his assistant, in Hackett's office, and it seemed to have done her good. There was the tiniest chance Steven might have prepped her (a bit) for the afternoon session (even though he wasn't supposed to), but David rather thought he had been... softening the ground. Starting to lower her expectations, as they'd discussed.

After a week of listening to the SR-1's crew testify, the Admirals were becoming more pragmatic about the last few years. They wanted Shepard found innocent of actual treason (by virtue of only being with Cerberus because the organization had resurrected her), but _guilty_ of the initial theft of the SR-1 (conveniently ignoring the fact that they'd allowed her to keep her rank AND the _Normandy_ immediately after Saren died). Such a ruling would _officially_ close the matter, establish her loyalty, remove her from the chain of command, but allow her to stay service-adjacent with a civilian military contractor designation. She'd never fly again, a circumstance that Anderson had been _railing_ against for almost two weeks, but Hackett and several of the other Admirals had worn him down.

It was truly starting to look like their best compromise.

\-- 

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 14.06.2186. 20:58 MST  
Subject: You did well.  
Message: You did a good job today, Eliza. I'm proud of you.**

**Did you see my message from last night? You didn't respond or mention it today, so I wanted to make sure you knew that Lt. Alvarez is out. Hackett dismissed him this morning. It's no loss. But that means Lt. Vega is the _only_ one left.**

 **THROW THE GUY A BONE, will you? I don't know what happened between you two, but he's a fine soldier and we need him _functional_. You've already scared off two members of your team, Shepard. Two others ended up on Medical Leave. Vega is _it_ , Liza. He's the last you've got. Until we sucker someone else into coming on board.**

**See you tomorrow,**

**David.**

\--

The sun was setting, and Admiral Anderson was tearing the paper tab off a packet of old-fashioned heartburn tablets. He plopped the discs into a tall glass of water, and collapsed into one of his deck chairs, desperately trying to ignore a dim sense of foreboding. He set the datapad he'd been reading down on his lap and pressed his fingers into his temples. 

A few hours before he wrote this missive to Eliza, begging her to fix things with Vega, he'd received a coded transmission from Kaidan. Lehmann had begun his assignment with Commander Bailey, and already reported that new head of C-Sec was laconic, no-nonsense, skirted the edge of the law at every turn, but appeared to only truly care about the functionality of the Citadel. A tough nut to crack, Aurel warned.

He sipped his fizzy cocktail, closed his eyes, and pondered what to do about Alenko. Udina. The entire damn mess on the Citadel.

_We **need** to figure out what Cerberus is up to now. It **never** felt more important to know. And the worst part is I can't pinpoint what - out of all the reports I've read - is sparking that conviction._

The Admiral knew he'd never trust Cerberus. Ever. It had been the cause of one of the worst failures of his life, perhaps, but it had also turned out to be the overall best plan to date. David still wasn't comfortable about the part _he'd_ played in Shepard's estrangement with Alenko. While retaining the belief that what he'd done had ultimately been for the greater good, he acknowledged his timing... could have been better. Of course, he hadn't known Eliza was going to _die_. None of them had.

Whenever Anderson caught himself questioning what had happened to that brilliant, amber-haired girl who glowed sapphire at the drop of a hat and fought her way through Elysium, he always answered himself with: 'She died, of course.'

It had taken a quite a while for David to accept her death. She'd been... so FULL of life, so triumphant after the battle at the Citadel, and Anderson had _felt it with her_. Yes, many people had died - but _they_ were alive. His old adversary Saren was dead, and - even more importantly - _Sovereign_ was gone... scattered into a million pieces all over the CItadel.

_If only we'd gathered up his remains more carefully, before the Keepers could._

It had taken _even longer_ to accept that she was alive again. So Anderson kept Alenko and Shepard apart. Waiting for Eliza to _prove_ that she was really the women he'd known. _David_ had been the one to make that call. And it had probably been a bad call. In the few, scattered moments he allotted for reflection, he admitted that he _may_ have thought - by bringing her together with Vega - he could somehow make up for it.

 _Of course_ , Anderson mused, _I threw alcohol on a waning fire. Doesn't make sense to be shocked at the explosion._

\--

**From: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)**  
**To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)**  
**Date: 14.06.2186. 21:42 MST**  
**Subject: bars and fights and Shepard**  
**Message: This is the second - _and last_ \- bar fight where I've pulled you out, paid off damages, and made sure no one prosecuted you.**

**I appreciate how careful you were in the bar; the property damage was down significantly. However, the physical damage appears to be getting more... _personal_. Don't mistake me, given the big mouths on those three, I'm relieved none of them 'accidentally' ended up dead on Saturday. And they're pulling KP now.**

 **Alvarez is fine. His shoulder was only dislocated... though I expect it hurt rather a lot going back in. With medigel treatment, he could return to duty any time. It won't, however, be on Shepard's detail.**

**But you need to learn to rein it in, or I'll remove _you_ from Shepard's detail.**

**_¿Entiendes?_ **

**~Anderson**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this installment ended up way more 'campy' than i'd originally planned it to be, but i sort of ADORE it, so... you're stuck with it. feel free to tell me if it ruins the tone of the overall piece. OR - on the off-chance that you love it as much as *i* do - you can tell me that, too. :D
> 
> you may have also noticed that we're jumping around in time, again. if you find it difficult to follow, also feel free to ping me in the comments. we will eventually catch everyone up again. and now we know what date it is! (the Reapers will attack in October).
> 
> damn Reapers, always attacking when Kaidan's parents are trying to harvest apples!
> 
> ObSpanish: ¿Entiendes? ~ Do you understand?


	5. CIC: The Conference Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han Solo: "Look, Your Worshipfulness, let's get one thing straight. I take orders from just one person: me."  
> Princess Leia: "It's a wonder you're still alive... will someone get this big walking carpet out of my way?"  
> Han Solo: "No reward is worth this."
> 
> ~ Star Wars IV

It was almost 21:00, Monday night. Shepard was about to curl up in bed, in 3-B, and thought she might actually be able to sleep... when her omni-tool on the nightstand pinged with Anderson's alert chime. She sighed, weighed the merits of trying to get to sleep without knowing what it said, versus reading something that would keep her up all night, and finally decided to just check it.

 _What exactly do you want me to say, David? 'Shit, Alvarez saw this one coming and I failed to avert it'? And 'throw the guy a **bone** '? Do you have **any** idea what that_ sounds _like?_

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 14.06.2186. 21:01 MST  
Subject: Re:You did well.  
Message: As you say, Alvarez is no loss. And don't replace him. Vega is solid.**

**By the way, you need to work on your metaphors.**

**Shepard.**

\--

Tuesday morning. Sleep: approximately six hours. Breakfast: cookies and coffee.

 _Better proofread that message for Tom and send the damn thing. I'll wait with the 'bone', though. Until after we get back from the hearing. I mean - we were FINE yesterday, like there_ was _no bar fight. Maybe Anderson is wrong._

\-- 

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Aurel Lehmann (aurel_lehmann@c-sec.net)  
Date: 15.06.2186. 05:51 MST  
Subject: A Likely Story! (was re: friends in the service)  
Message: Owen is good people. Knowing how he is, sort of shocked he'd allow you guys to bet on whether or not you'd get an answer this message, though. Not his style. Even though i can understand you guys being curious. Well, tell him he has my congratulations on his promotion!**

 **Very timely, contacting me now, as only just got my .mil account access restored. Possibly will lose it just as fast; don't expect another reply if you try me again (EARth has sort of been a bust. I miss life on a ship. Never thought it'd be like this. Didn't expect to be grounded so long.)**

**Owen picked a good kid. Can't say when, but if i end up on the citadel, i'll have to give you an autograph or something.**

\--

She forced herself to wait for the military shuttle on Tuesday. It was 06:15, and she craned her neck back and forth, trying to watch both side streets leading to the schoolyard. Waiting for her 'cousin' to show up.

When she saw him strolling eastwards on Prior toward her - freshly shaved, jeans and white button-down shirt new-looking and spotless - her stomach wobbled uncomfortably. He got close enough for her to catch his clean scent, and she turned away to hide her face.

_FUCK. This needs to **stop** being A Thing._

"Hey. Didn't know you were waiting today."

She swallowed, practiced pinning a small smile on her face, and then swung around, "Got up a little late; this was just easier. It's gonna be kind of warm again today, and I didn't feel like walking around downtown anyway."

Vega was staring at her face, and she swallowed nervously. _Why won't he stop staring it's getting REALLY uncomfortable..._

"When you weren't here yesterday, I called off the shuttle, walked into Chinatown, and caught a Skycab. _That_ was an interesting ride."

Shepard's eyebrows went up. "I sometimes wonder when we'll get recognized just because we catch military-run shuttles here so early, even if we are in civilian dress."

Vega paused and Eliza could tell from the look on his face that he was choosing his words carefully, had likely considered and discarded at least four possible responses before he merely nodded.

_OK, now it's **killing** me. Did he almost say 'nice dress, but not as nice as the one you wore to dinner?' Did he almost ask me how it feels to change into a uniform on base, knowing those bastards would prefer me to never wear a uniform again? Did **he** already get recognized around here as military, after all the drama last week? Is he EVER going to tell me about the fight?_

She pushed 'restart' on the conversation. "Pretty sure this morning is where they rewind to what happened right after I turned myself in. Gonna be a fun day."

Vega obviously tried not to wince, and mostly failed. "I expected them to go all the way back, then come forward... until I got a subpoena for tomorrow." He expelled a loud breath. "So... yeah."

She shrugged. "Better to get it out of the way now, I guess."

James suddenly reached out a hand and caught her by the arm. He moved so quickly, she barely had time to react.

"Nothing happened, Shepard, and that's what I'll say under oath, if they ask. It's true." He shifted his gaze from her face to the sky briefly, and when he glanced back down, the look on his face was sardonic. "Not that I _wouldn't_ lie... if things had gone differently. If we hadn't been... interrupted. But in case they try to match our stories up, that's where I'm at." He dropped his hand.

Eliza's skin prickled even after his warm fingers dropped away.

In the corner of Shepard's eye, a small dot in the sky was coming closer. She cleared her throat and murmured "I _did_ hear you, last Thursday. When I went by you on the roof. I think it's extremely unlikely any of them ask. And, in any event, I shouldn't have accused you of-" She paused, bit her lip, then clarified, "I shouldn't have said what I said. But I appreciate your, um, tact. As you... found out... they, um, already know about Alenko."

Vega (again) tried not to visibly flinch, and failed for a second time. Eliza frowned.

 _Still? It_ still _bothers him **that** much?_

"They're not going to ask," she offered dismissively. "If they even _start_ to make the questions salacious, Hackett will step in and _verbally shred_ the person responsible. The only opening they have to ask you anything like that is the jamming software, and I plan to beat them to the punch: I have night terrors; you were kind and patient. You decided I didn't deserve to have long crying jags as part of my official record." She tried not to react to the softening of his expression, adding: "I intend to make clear that if I hadn't been in a position to obtain _Asari_ intervention to help speed-heal control of my biotics, ten blocks of Vancouver might be gone. They need to understand that Null Rooms are _incredibly_ injurious." She clenched her jaw. "Before they decide to lock _more_ biotics up in them."

James' expression went from gratified to somber, and he nodded.

She tried again to affect a change of subject, as the shuttle made a wide circle to approach the small landing pad. "So, you'll be testifying tomorrow. What are you up to today?"

Vega snorted. "You mean... no one dropped a dime on me? I thought you had ways of knowing everything about the SR-2."

Eliza blinked. "You're back on board?"

 _OK... so HE can **bust up a bar** and get a slap on the wrist, but they won't even let_ me _NEAR her... what the absolute FUCK._

"Yeah. We're actually beginning the tear-out of the old Armory today." He paused as their shuttle landed and the door started to retract. "Do you... do you want to hear how it's going?"

_'Or does it hurt too much?' That's what he's asking._

"Sure." She boarded the shuttle, automatically returning the salute of the Private stationed at the door who checked Vega's credentials and then _stared_ at her. 

James finally coughed _loudly_ , jarring the soldier into babbling about how happy he was to meet her, and they'd be downtown in only a few minutes, etc.

"Doesn't it get old?" James commented with a raised eyebrow, as the Private slipped forward into the pilot's seat.

Eliza shrugged, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She tried to stop it, but suddenly it expanded. "Yes and no."

His eyebrow went higher as the shuttle took off. Shepard abruptly sat down in one of the jump seats, trying to look graceful, and not like she'd basically fallen over.

Vega rocked sideways into the other seat, for all the world as if he'd planned exactly that movement.

 _Damn show-off_.

"Yes... and no?"

She sighed. _I brought it up._

"Recognition can get tiring. But... sometimes it reminds me how nice it is to be around people who don't question your every move, who - uh - jump when you say 'jump.' "

Vega raised both eyebrows. "So you don't only miss the _Normandy_ \- you miss command."

Shepard shrugged, still grinning mischievously. "All I'm saying is... don't mess that ship too badly. Just in case I get it back some day."

\--

**SHEP: hey  
_VEGA: hey_  
SHEP: can you chat?  
_VEGA: yeah. i'm in apartment. come down_  
SHEP: this is fine. how did today go?  
_VEGA: it went OK. Joker is a PITA, but I only had to deal with him for a few min. EDI says hi_  
SHEP: uh, really?  
_VEGA: of course. how was hearing?_  
SHEP: bad, but nothing salacious  
_VEGA: i'm sorry :(_  
SHEP: sorry there was nothing salacious?  
_VEGA: _no_. you know what i mean_  
SHEP: yeah  
SHEP: look, Anderson reminded me about weekly check-in. want to do dinner tomorrow night?  
SHEP: or maybe every Wednesday, my treat  
_VEGA: it was supposed to be TWICE weekly_  
SHEP: uh, was it?  
_VEGA: yeah, it was_  
SHEP: wednesday AND sunday?  
_VEGA: sure_  
_VEGA: i'll cook sunday_  
SHEP: was thinking we'd go out  
_VEGA: why?_  
SHEP: being out is better. fresh air, can try different restaurants  
_VEGA: and not be alone_  
SHEP: uh. yeah  
_VEGA: plus I know how much you hate my cooking. so much for cake_  
SHEP: cake? what cake?  
_VEGA: you said you wanted three milk cake in exchange for my gun. figured i could get the stuff for sunday_  
SHEP: you don't play fair  
_VEGA: thought we covered this. _you're_ the one that doesn't play fair. i'm just following your playbook_  
SHEP: picnic. we can see how the cleanup in Trilliam is going  
_VEGA: us and a thousand other people_  
SHEP: so?  
_VEGA: roof picnic_  
SHEP: no  
_VEGA: no?_  
SHEP: the roof is mine  
_VEGA: you won't share?_  
SHEP: no  
_VEGA: not even for cake?_  
SHEP: you're getting your gun back for cake. don't push me, or you'll never see the Carnifex again  
_VEGA: you really take the fun out of everything, you know that?_  
SHEP: and i want the Predator  
_VEGA: WHAT?!?_  
SHEP: i know the Carnifex is special, but you offered me the Predator before. i want something to carry  
_VEGA: are you even _supposed_ to be carrying?_  
SHEP: no one told me no  
_VEGA: let me get this straight: no roof, i have to cook everything, share my cake, give you one of my pistols, AND i have to drag everything over to Trillium_  
_VEGA: that about sum it up?_  
SHEP: uh... yeah  
_VEGA: make me a better offer, Shepard_  
SHEP: i offered to BUY you dinner. you can have the god-damn pistol back as long as i can have the Predator.  
SHEP: and i got rid of Alvarez  
_VEGA: _i_ got rid of Alvarez, when i put him in the hospital. i suspect someone told you about it_  
SHEP: but he's not being replaced. it's just you and me, Vega  
_VEGA: *sigh* what time?_**

\--

Shepard packed a bag of her own, and went down to 2-B approximately a half an hour before she'd told James she'd meet him in Trillium. She raised her hand to knock on the door, and then realized it felt _ridiculous_ to **knock** after everything they'd been through. So she hit the lock on the door, heard it click as it (still) recognized her DNA... and then instantly felt weird about **invading** , after _she'd_ been the one to move out.

_OK, this is absurd. Things will NEVER normalize unless and until YOU normalize them._

In the end, she did both - she knocked on the panel AND smacked the activation square that opened it.

The shower was running. _OH SHIT. OK, new plan._

She dropped her burden at the door and nearly _ran_ across to the kitchen. There were four large bags, all full of food, lined up on the counters. She grabbed two at random and turned. Just as suddenly she stopped, wondering if she should leave a note to let him know where his food had gone.

But leaving a note _also_ felt frankly ridiculous.

This feeling of insane indecisiveness was new, and frustrating... she just wanted to _bite_ something, so of course that was when the kitchen door swung open, and Vega was standing there, water still dripping from his hair and sliding down his bare shoulders, only a short towel wrapped around his hips.

_Mierda. Madre de Dios. A bunch of other Spanish words that I've forgotten and God he's wet he looks so good SMELLS so good MUST ACT NATURAL..._

"Hey."

He arched a brow. "If you try to run out of here with that cake I _will_ catch you."

Eliza's cheeks went red-hot. She could only imagine how silly she looked, blushing and shrinking back as if she was still nine years old and had actually been caught stealing food.

"You made such a big deal about having to carry everything, I figured I'd do half. I also bought a _huge_ blanket at the Friday Flea. It's out by the door. It was amazing, by the way, and pretty big, like an actual bazaar. The flea market, I mean. I went there Friday night. After what I hope like hell was my last time testifying." She stopped rambling and exhaled sharply. "They... made a point of telling me I hadn't been dismissed, though."

_Good. Change the subject. I am **not** stealing cake. And he is NOT standing there nearly naked._

James leaned against the door frame and casually crossed his arms over his chest. It made his shoulders look huge. "How did it go?"

Shepard sighed and glanced away, trying to concentrate on the question and not how he looked or smelled. "The stuff about Horizon was hard, but - well - Kaidan laid the framework, and I'd already talked about Harbinger and the Praetorian in the Null room. Anderson also steered the Generals toward questions about tactical stuff, and away from the espionage bullshit. Probably for reasons of his own." She shrugged. "They did have a lot of questions about Cerberus that I couldn't fucking answer, and they didn't enjoy hearing me admit _that._ "

_We **really** don't need to be discussing this in here, alone, with one of us naked. Very. Bad. Idea._

He opened his mouth, presumably to ask another question, and she cut him off. "Why don't you go get dressed, and I'll start ferrying this stuff to the park? I figure it's early enough that we might be able to claim some shade, but if we wait much longer, you're right - it will be full of people, and we'll be SOL."

She glanced at his face, happened to meet his eyes, and realized he absolutely _knew_ how nervous she was of being alone with him, how easily things might get out of hand. She wondered if he understood how reluctant she was to deal with all the official nonsense AND all their personal nonsense, at the same time.

He raked a hand through his hair. Distractedly, she noted he'd need another cut soon. "So... what? Does this mean you're never going to be willing to talk about Alenko? Or just not here, where - OK, yeah, I get it - we're alone, but at _least_ there's no chance of a random person in Trillium eavesdropping, and figuring out _who you are_."

Eliza bit her lip. "I just can't see the point of trying to justify something that happened _three years ago_ while I'm still in the middle of trying to save my _current_ military career." Shepard closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Especially when it all feels moot anyway."

Vega stiffened, levering himself off the door frame. "Not _all_ of it, certainly."

She shrugged again, avoiding his eyes. "It feels like a lot of stuff is ending, yeah. Like there's no way I can stop it."

_Or... wait, was he talking about... us?_

James nodded slowly, and turned out into the living room "OK." He paused and looked back. "You have your omni-tool, right?"

She nodded. "I don't go anywhere without it anymore. You're gonna bring yours?" He'd left his omni-tool behind when they'd gone out for Thai food on Wednesday, to avoid having to talk to Hackett and Anderson after his testimony.

"Yeah. I'm waiting for a message from Cortez about plans for tomorrow. And I already dealt with the Admirals being pissed at my 'attitude' during my testimony. It's all good." He started walking again and _just_ grabbed the towel at his waist, as it loosened on his drying skin. "Whoops. Uh, so, I'll message you if I can't find you, OK?"

"Sure." She grabbed the bags of food again and followed him out of the kitchen, desperately trying not to think about all the things she wanted to do to him while he was naked. "You never told me why they were so ticked off - what did you say?"

He shrugged, opening the living room closet door. Shepard had two seconds to wonder why he was still keeping his clothes out here instead of in the empty bedroom closet, before the towel dropped. She swallowed her gasp, and spun to face the folding screen. Behind her, she heard a snort... then a chuckle.

"I refused to describe the content of your night terrors, among other things. Get going. I'll be over in less than ten minutes."

\--

Shepard explored the north end of the park, increasingly pleased at the lack of visible damage from the explosion she'd allowed to happen in the sky overhead, a week and a bit ago. She eschewed the crowded covered picnic shelters; they didn't need a grill (she hoped), or a table, so she finally threw down the blanket under a gorgeous cedar tree. The smell of the bark was amazing, and part of her hoped it'd block out the scent of newly-washed Lieutenant.

_Mierda. I need a cold shower - or some other solution - later._

Of course, they might _get_ a cold drench. She figured the reason the covered shelters were so damn crowded today was how cloudy it had gotten in the last hour. They weren't predicting rain until 14:00 hours, but you never knew in British Columbia.

Her omni-tool pinged.

\--

**_VEGA: north end?_  
SHEP: yup. cedars  
_VEGA: i c u_**

\--

They sat on their respective sides of Shepard's three-meter-square purple blanket and ate amazing food. She remembered the dinner they'd all enjoyed together somewhat wistfully.

"Osorio looked good when I saw him on Wednesday. Did you hear from him since they let him go home with his daughter?"

James stirred. He'd stuffed himself before even cutting the cake, and looked like he was starting to fall asleep in the filtered sunlight.

"No. Well, I got a message from his daughter. She-" Vega stopped dead.

Eliza, puzzled, prompted "She..."

He cleared his throat. "She, um... sort of... well, she was talking to me a lot, on Monday. When I went back on Thursday, and they were getting ready to discharge him, Robert mentioned that he'd had a word with her, but that she might not... _not_ continue to contact me." Vega looked self-conscious.

Shepard suddenly understood, and she couldn't stop herself from chuckling.

_Poor baby._

"The price of being hot, huh? You get hit on everywhere you go, even a friend's sickbed?"

James blushed. Eliza snickered.

He looked disgruntled. "It's not funny. _Dios_ , she's **nineteen**. Her father nearly _died_ at my feet while helping me save the damn city. It has nothing to do with how 'hot' I am, and everything to do with an immature case of hero-worship."

Shepard started laughing again. "Oh, yeah. I _hate it_ when that happens."

James let his head turn to the side, met her eyes, and slowly arched his right eyebrow. Her laughter became _guffaws_.

"Right. I'm certain you do. Never ends well."

She checked her amusement and tsk-d at him. "Now, now. _Sometimes_ it's pretty convenient."

James raised the left eyebrow to match the right. " _Convenient_?"

"Or, um, _comforting_. Convivial. Cooperative. Cooking! And probably many other words that begin with 'C'."

Vega swiveled his head back to neutral, and let his eyes flutter shut. "That list _absolutely_ misses the best 'C' word on offer."

Eliza paused, confused, and started running through words. James glanced her way, grinned, and waited. Just as he opened his mouth, she figured it out and threw up a hand to forestall him. "I got it." She felt her cheeks heat up again, and cast around for a way to regain control of the conversation. "So Osorio was...?"

He let his head loll back. "Just saying, the next time you want some hero worship, you should let _me_ pick the letter."

" _Osorio_ was...?"

"Outstanding. Overjoyed. On cloud nine. On a roll-"

She cleared her throat. "I GET IT."

Vega started laughing and glanced over at her. " _Do_ you?"

"You... can be so incredibly sweet, making this amazing lunch, being willing to risk getting rained on so we can have a nice day. And then you suddenly _revert_ to being a huge pain in my ass."

He sighed and settled back down with hands clasped behind his neck. "It's a gift." He smirked "One among many."

Eliza opened her mouth to reprove him further... 

... when a nearly-silent buzz from her omni-tool caught her attention.

_What the hell?_

Most 'normal' people didn't even notice file downloads, and Eliza had acclimatized to her cybernetically-enhanced hearing a long time ago. Still, she had _specifically_ scheduled her file transfers _around_ the picnic; in part, because noticing her omni-tool struggling to send a large file in the middle of nowhere tended to leave her low-level anxious, waiting for the process to hang. She'd likewise pushed off all of her downloads until late tonight; not only due to the lack of connectivity, but because the memory chip on her tool was perilously close to full and she needed to gut it.

Had any of those things not been true, she _might_ not have noticed whatever was trying to upload to her omni-tool.

But she had. And when she checked her file stack, found the small download still in progress, and then looked for the file ID...

_FUCK ME. That looks an awful lot like EDI's binary signature. As Joker would say: what the **shit**?_

Shepard hit a couple of buttons and ran a quick viral scan on the file. Nothing. Or at least nothing _yet_. She tapped a few more keys, trying to ferret out a publisher. Nothing. She ran a deep packet scan, all while Vega started to softly snore a meter away. It was local.

_LOCAL?_

And then she saw it. She strained, and thought she could maybe almost hear it. 

One of the indicator lights on his omni-tool was - very slowly and faintly - blinking.

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Jeff 'Joker' Moreau (j_moreau@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 20.06.2186. 13:44 MST  
Subject: sure, i'll just get right on that (was Re: WHAT. THE. SHIT.)  
Message: Yikes. OK, I'll try to _tell_ Command that they should allow me free access to you and the ship, Joker. Let me know how it goes on your end.**

**~Shepard**

\--

**From: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
To: clown (clown@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
Date: 20.06.2186. 16:47 EST  
Subject: what the shit deux  
Message: seriously? you guys respect my security protocols just that much, eh? what's this all about?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a gift for those of you struggling to care about the other PsOV in this collection. more Shepard! 
> 
> i hope you didn't skip over the Anderson chapter, though, since the way things are shifting now really resolves on the fact that (a) Alvarez blew his chance, (b) there was a big fight and why, (c) Vega needed to get his sh*t together, and Anderson gave him that head's up, and (d) Shepard found out about all of it. you also will not understand the mystery sections if you skipped over Tom/Aurel.
> 
> and the beginning of this won't make sense.
> 
> \--
> 
> i've been toying with the idea of eventually publishing a timeline document. i have been working from/on one. i imagine those of you who HATE jumping around in time and trying to figure out what happened when with who (if you're even still reading!) would probably appreciate it.


	6. Crew Deck: The Battery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shot through the heart, and you're to blame; darlin' you give love... a bad name." ~ B. Jovi.

After he'd learned about the timed, paired gates at the front entrance, the outside stairs having been removed, _and_ that the basement access door was now _welded_ shut, the Turian apprehended that reconnaissance was in order.

_Towels, by a makeshift shower. Books, tucked underneath a sort-of metal reclining couch that has seen better days. In the large wooden boxes, sprouted seeds. So much evidence. All very careless._

It was obvious someone still accessed the roof. No sign of the actual human, though.

If this had been just any old apartment, in any old building on Earth, the Turian was certain he could have cracked the code on the exterior door fifteen minutes ago. As it was, he _finally_ hacked the lock, nearly twenty minutes after his shuttle pilot had kicked him out onto the roof with a gruff "They catch you for B&E, you don't even know my name." The Turian wasn't sure what a 'B and E' _was_ ; he rather thought it sounded like an inter-species sexual act, and he seriously doubted there would be any of those.

_Not adverse, exactly. But it seems unlikely._

He carefully descended the short staircase just inside the door, fitting his clawed feet sideways on the narrow steps, trying to minimize the faint 'clatter' noise. Just as carefully, he slid a clawed hand over the interior door, rapidly realizing it was one of those old-fashioned swinging things that had... a handle...

It, too, was locked.

The Turian ran his omni-tool over the small computer access plate next to the door handle.

 _Decahedron. Irregular. There are over thirty-two thousand possible configurations, and only another million combinations of integers. It will likely take_ at least _another twenty minutes. If I'd have KNOWN she'd reconfigured all the locks_ herself _I would have brought my **real** hacking software._

He scoffed and mentally added _if I could have gotten it through Customs._

He silently stood on the last step, soothing himself with an internal recitation of a dozen Turian profanities, while his sorely-deficient omni-tool chugged through the over three hundred trillion different combinations that might rescue him from this cramped, dingy, _dimly-lit_ Terran deathtrap...

_One message. That was ALL it would have taken to have avoided this... melodrama._

Even processing nearly a million random combinations a minute, he was _shocked_ when the locked clicked 'open' after only seven minutes.

_This must be some sort of Terran hacker record, and I really should rub-_

He opened the door, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a heavy pistol. He shifted his eyes to the woman behind the pistol, even as she spoke.

" **Garrus** , _GODDAMN_ it, I almost _shot_ you."

She had dark brown hair. She had brown - _brown?_ \- eyes. But it was her. "Shepard... you weren't _really_ going to let your oldest friend get shot in the face _again_ , were you?"

\--

She'd stowed the gun first thing, and embraced him; part of Garrus' brain almost _broke_ at how small and soft and... _different_ she looked. Felt.

Was acting.

She offered to make tea, and dug out some sort of cookie she swore wouldn't poison him... probably. Vegan, she said. But she also suggested they could easily send out for an early dinner, order from a place that served dextro-amino-acid-based, as well as levo-amino-acid based, foods.

It was almost as if he'd broken into the wrong apartment, and he was watching Shepard's well-behaved, dark-haired, twin sister patter around a ragged kitchen, heating water for tea.

"Shepard, I read a considerable amount of your - and Kaidan's - testimony, about recent events. And that other kid, uh, forgot the name." Garrus idly scratched his jaw with one talon. "Actually, I pretty much read _all_ the official transcripts. Skimmed the stuff - like Horizon - that I saw first-hand. I get why you're rough. Our military doesn't treat the rare Turian who manifests biotics very well _either_. But this is _you_ we're talking about. Isn't it time to start shaking it _off_?"

She sighed and frowned. Her hip was resting against the counter, and she was staring at the small hotplate-like burner, glowing red under her kettle. "How'd you get a hold of all that data?"

Garrus scratched again, behind his fringe. "I have my ways. A friend in Command owed me a favor. Don't change the subject."

The water was boiling. She got out two large mugs. "Which was what, again?"

"When do you return to being the Shepard who told The Illusive Man 'Bite me'? Which, as a point of order, I still do not understand as a _human_ euphemism."

Her mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles, and Garrus felt cheered. But it faded quickly. "Remember how it felt to make the decision to leave C-Sec?"

Garrus tilted his head; he could feel his crest flaring slightly. "I do." He made a noise low in his throat, and heard her translator make a sound like a human exhaling. "But then my best friend died, I became a vigilante, and - after my friend came back to life - caught _hell_ for some of the things I did while I _technically_ worked for Cerberus. That first difficult decision lays buried under an avalanche of other hard choices. If I'm parsing your point correctly, however: Yes, it feels unfair when you try to do all the right things, and The Powers That Be squeeze your carapace anyway."

Shepard laughed. "Exactly. Except-" she spread her arms, "-it hurts a _bit_ more when you don't have a carapace."

Garrus laughed; it came through her omni-tool as a reverberating purr. "Depends on how hard they squeeze." He tried to force his face to convey his very real sadness. "Shepard, what they did was abhorrent. I think they have some idea, now. I _might_ have gotten to read what _Liara_ had to say about it; I believe the human expression is 'ripped them a new one'?"

This also managed to get a small smile out of the Commander.

"Off-topic, Shepard, but I don't want to forget: my shuttle pilot told me not to let him return at my pick-up time if I got 'caught for B and E.' What exactly **is** a 'B and E'?" He waited barely a second before adding "Because it sounds like the risque sexual act I might ask a human female to perform on our fourth date."

Garrus was gratified when Shepard _literally_ fell over onto the counter, laughing until tears ran down her cheeks. When she managed to stop laughing, over a minute later, she explained it.

_Huh. Given the influx of humans into the corps, I wonder if C-Sec has adopted that slang since I quit?_

"So-" he paused, and met her eyes. "I wasn't _that_ far off. 'Breaking and entering' _does_ sound like shorthand for a sex act Turians would request on the fourth date."

Shepard lost it again.

\--

They ordered food (to be dropped off by sky-car), and migrated to the roof to pick it up. Garrus let her know his shuttle was returning for him - barring a signal that he'd been apprehended for a crime - at 19:00.

Perched on one of the ledges surrounding the building, Shepard slowly worked her way through a large cheese pizza. When Garrus offered to treat, she'd slyly asked him to get three: hers, one with pepperoni for her downstairs neighbor, and the one with dextrose cheese. He'd been a bit dubious, but it turned out that sitting in the metal long-chair (which she called a 'chase'; the name made _no_ sense), stuffing his face with human comfort food, and ignoring serious matters for awhile had made for a wonderful evening.

_Of course... all good things come to an end._

"Shepard, _why_ didn't you answer even _one_ of my messages this weekend? You wouldn't have caught me 'doing a B and E' if you had bothered to write me back."

The human woman across from him shifted her hips on the stone ledge, swinging one leg over to dangle off the building. If Garrus had even a trace of acrophobia, the posture would have made him twitch. As it was, it left him wondering what was going on in her head.

"I was busy most of the weekend. I basically ignored all incoming communication after my testimony through Saturday evening. I left Headquarters, caught a shuttle-bus back to Eastside, and hopped off at the Friday night flea market. I spent over three hours there, just... wandering. It was sort of wonderful. Though-" she giggled, and Garrus cocked his head at the strange sound, "-someone tried to pickpocket me! **Me.** " She chuckled, then clarified, "I learned how to pick pockets at the tender age of six. You never forget that slight _bump._."

"You... never told me that."

"Yeah, well. It's not an official part of the _Lt. Commander Elizabeth Shepard Biography_." She sighed and swung the other leg out, kicking the air, gazing off into the distance. "I bought a bunch of gifts that night, so I went out to Port Moody to deliver them the next morning. THIS time I informed Command before I left the building, and told them I definitely wasn't staying overnight, so they spared me the babysitter."

_Baby... what?_

Shepard kept going. "And I had things planned for yesterday that were sort of... stressful, especially after how my _Wednesday_ night went." She turned a bit to meet his eyes. "I had every _intention_ of answering you, Garrus. It just got away from me. Sorry."

Garrus tried to keep his crest relaxed, tried to keep from commenting on her position on the roof, but his intuition was screaming at him that there was something else going on, and the investigative instincts he'd honed in C-Sec kept poking him with questions to ask. But he could also tell that she was (quite literally) on edge.

"So... your subpoena spared me today, at least. And others are apparently coming in tomorrow and Wednesday." She turned at the hips again, looking over her shoulder. "How, uh, do you think it went?"

_I wonder if she's had this moment with **every** one of her old crew that testified already, facing us after we tell the Alliance, under oath, whether or not we think she's fit for duty again. Spirits, doesn't she know that any one of us would walk through fire for her?_

"I told them _my_ experience of you in the past year since Cerberus brought you back to life is that you're the same headstrong person I knew in '83. _Meaner_ , maybe, and even _more_ determined to protect this miserable excuse for a planet."

Shepard laughed again, though not as heartily as before. "You did _not_."

Garrus' mandible gaped the slightest bit, and then he took pity on her. "You're right. I didn't." He waited a beat, then added. "I didn't say 'miserable excuse' for a planet; your planet is relatively nice." He gazed out over Downtown Eastside. " _Some_ of it, anyway."

"Given how much sheer physical damage I've done with my powers since they incarcerated me, they were probably relieved to hear one of my crew claim I'm merely _'meaner'_ , and not 'certifiable'. It's not like they _actually_ want to listen to a biotic's ravings in any event."

The dextrose-cheese-covered bread in Garrus' stomach seemed to wobble slightly. "I didn't actually say that part, either, Shepard. I told them that you have always been the one person in the galaxy that I trust above all others, to know - and tell me - the truth." Garrus gazed at the side profile of the human woman he'd come to regard as one of his closest friends. "I told them that you're strong, determined, smart, and lovely... even though you're a squishy human-" the translator decoded his clicking as the sound of human laughter, and Shepard chuckled, too. "I told them that they should basically be following your suggestions to the letter." Garrus shrugged, feeling his shoulders scrape the metal sides of the chair, through the thin fabric that covered it.

_Not built for Turian proportions._

When Shepard swung back around, her face had softened. Deep brown eyes - that just looked _wrong_ in her pale face - shone like glass. Garrus was suddenly afraid she was going to do that weird Terran thing where water came out of her eyes. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing yet another jarring derivation from her 'normal' kickass persona.

 _What did they DO to her?_ He made a noise, which her omni-tool expressed as a sigh.

"Shepard... you look like you're about to start leaking."

She slid backwards a bit on the ledge, and pivoted, casually kicking a leg over each corner. She now sat precariously straddling the corner edge of the building. It turned her face away from him, but he distinctly heard her sniff and reply "Well, you said you trust me more than anyone else in the galaxy, and I haven't had a lot of people making it clear that they think well of me of late, let alone trust me. I've been re-evaluating how important that is, actually."

 _Spirits... what in the name of Order has been_ happening _here?_

"Shepard... why _wouldn't_ people trust you? Other than the fact that Terrans are occasionally as awful about biotics as Turians, and you're a biotic." He paused and winced, realizing... "and you were dead. And then you worked for a terrorist organization. And blew up a relay that damaged an entire system and nearly exterminated a race of sentient beings." Garrus paused, and then decided to lay it all out. "And, um, slept with one of your subordinates."

The closer leg swung back around, and she _glared_ at him. " _Thank you_ SO much, Garrus. Hearing it all at once makes _everything_ SO much better."

Garrus made a sound that was the Turian equivalent of clearing his throat. "Well, I suppose I see both sides. I've also read all the testimony so far, and it's clear your Defense Committee is coming around." He paused again. "I'm afraid that I _do_ expect they will remove you from official military service. But you're _still_ a Spectre, Shepard. And you're still trusted and respected, all over the galaxy. They can't take that away."

She shifted restlessly and finally ended up facing away from him again, staring out over the rooftops. "We're so unprepared, Garrus. You don't understand. I close my eyes at night, and watch the entire planet _burn_. It's horrible. There are husks everywhere. Swarms of those tiny stinging machines paralyzing everyone. And, more often than not, I've been shoved back into prison. Or cryo, like Jack. And I can't help anyone."

_Ahhh. The night-fears._

"I'm still remembering the Collector home world in my dreams. I actually testified about it."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "What did they say?"

He shrugged. "They wanted to know if I thought you were having the same nightmares. I replied that I couldn't testify as to what my _former_ commanding officer was currently dreaming about at night. I advised they ask _you_." He scoffed. "If they're of even borderline intelligence, however, it might eventually compute that experienced military officers saw things on the other side of the Omega Relay that will haunt them the rest of their lives - waking AND sleeping - and they _might_ want to consider preparing for the coming war." Garrus leaned back, laying his crest on top of the lounge chair; it was surprisingly comfortable. "However, I haven't been able to kick the Turian High Command into hyperdrive, either."

The small human woman, perched on the edge of a filthy roof, in a obviously squalid section of the Terran capital, sniffed again. "So... we're screwed."

"You knew that already."

Her back stiffened, just the slightest bit, and she swung her leg back around to face him. "Maybe I still harbored a tiny glimmer of hope that - once all this bullshit was out of the way, Alliance Command would listen. Start moving people out of population centers _now_. Start stockpiling food _now_. Start figuring out where to install and supply a dozen new 100-K Civilian Bunker Units, _now_. Start organizing and arming town militias _now_. Use the Normandy's hybrid-propulsion and stealth systems as a model and try to retrofit at least three large freighters with speed and stealth capability _now_." She blew out a loud, exasperated breath. "I haven't been able to testify about ANY OF THAT yet. All they want to talk about is **the past**."

Garrus struggled with Earth's gravity and the separate issue of having gotten various spines caught on pieces of the chair; he finally managed to stand up. He walked over to her perch, and leaned against it next to her. "Then I recommend you follow the advice a wise woman once gave me: decide how much more time you will devote to your past, and then set your sights firmly on the future, no matter what _others_ do."

She was sitting on the ledge, a meter and a half in the air, and he was leaning against the ledge only forty centimeters away. When she turned her head to look at him, his eyes met hers at a much closer distance than he'd realized they would. He was almost certainly inside her human personal space. He debated leaning away, but then _she_ leaned _forward_ , and she pressed her lips to his mandible. Closer to his jaw than his mouth, but still. Garrus was too stunned to move.

"Thank you. Even if everything goes sideways, and I don't get to see you again, I hope you know that your friendship has been the most important constant of my adult life. _And_ my death." She leaned back, and turned away again, staring out over the city.

_...Error..._

He raised a hand to his face, touching the spot. "Shepard, I don't know what they did to you, but I'm afraid T'Soni put you back together much squishier than you were before."

He watched her contort as she sputtered with laughter. He wanted to grab her, drag her away from the corner of the three-story building. "Gee, thanks, Garrus."

They both watched clouds gather on the horizon for a few minutes, before he opined "I'll bet there's going to be a spectacular sunset tonight."

She nodded slowly, still staring off into the distance. "Probably. Though not until almost 22:00 hours. It's the Terran Solstice."

Garrus leaned a bit backwards off the building - trying to ignore the fact that it was a long drop to the concrete pavement below them - until he could see her face. "It's what?"

She turned her torso to look at him and smiled sadly. "The day of our year when the northern hemisphere gets the most hours of sunlight." Her smile faltered. "It only gets darker from here."

\--

His shuttle inbound, Garrus finally figured he had nothing left to lose. "And whose messages have you been ignoring _today_?"

She jerked in surprise, and Garrus spared a moment to thank the Spirits that she'd climbed down off the ledge in preparation for his shuttle to hover over it. " _What?_ "

"C'mon, Shepard: you and I can both hear that notification buzz, even though your omni-tool is on 'silent' mode. You've been getting messages, on average, every one thousand, two hundred, and sixteen seconds since I arrived. _Twelve_ messages, to be exact."

She fidgeted. There was no other term for such a human motion. "It's my babysitter."

If he could, Garrus would have rolled his eyes. "You used that term before, but - unless my translation program glitched, I _highly_ doubt you actually have a parental elder tending to you like an offspring. Who, exactly, is this person?"

Shepard shrugged. "They gave me a bodyguard, in the null facility. He was... actually pretty helpful, but now it's getting... well-" She paused, casting around for just the right adjective. Garrus saw his rental shuttle turn the corner of the intersecting street, a couple blocks away, hovering about the level of the roof, and decided to interject.

"Irritating? Cloying? Horrid?" No response. He took a shot in the dark as the shuttle pulled over the edge of the apartment building's roof, "Amorous?"

She twitched violently again. Garrus snorted. Her translator picked it up and correctly interpreted it. He watched as she turned the most _interesting_ color.

 _I don't think I've ever seen Shepard flush like that before. I wonder if I nailed it._ He pondered that phrase. _So to speak._

" **Irksome.** It's getting... _irksome_." She stepped in to briefly embrace him, and then stepped back. For the first time this afternoon, she reminded him of her old self. "I meant what I said. Please be careful. God willing, I'll see you again soon."

A few meters away, the shuttle pilot called out "Oi! The fare didn't cover a long good-bye, mate! I have a pick-up near the yard at quarter after. Let's go!"

Garrus raised a hand and saluted her. "I don't care what the Alliance decides to do, Shepard. When the Reapers get here, I'll find you. We need you."

He turned, took a few strides, and leaped aboard his ride back to the docks, to his rendezvous with the Turian warship that would return him to Menae.

\--

**From: Garrus Vakarian (garrus_vakarian@18th_reserves.menae.net)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 22.06.2186. 01:31 TST  
Subject: took time to figure out who you were  
Message: So, _you're_ the 'babysitter.' I read through your testimony. Good stuff, especially the part where you told General Naracone to - what was it? - 'Mind his own fucking business.'**

**On that note, I can tell you why they're asking about dreams. Dr. T'Soni testified about indoctrination, and now they're having fits over the night terrors. Of course, _we_ have those dreams because we fought a huge, human-shaped Reaper, powered by the dissolved tissue of captured human colonists, on the other side of the Omega Relay. NOT because we're ready to step aside and let the Reapers win. I'm fairly sure your Defense Committee is aiming their ship at the wrong quadrant.**

**ALL this dredging up the past is counter-productive. Worse, it's pointless. Earth needs to plan for the _future_ , prepare for war. Perhaps you already agree with that, and if so, I apologize for the lecture. I'm worried about her.**

**Hope you enjoyed the cheese-covered bread.**

**~Garrus.**

**PS: Nice roof. Shower and everything.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shepard threw a bone to Vega; i throw a bone to Shepkarian 'shippers. i feel like i let Garrus be just a _little_ bit evil, and i sort of love it. half of what he throws out there is pure supposition, but he was an investigative officer with C-Sec, so i let his intuitive leap be the correct one. and i HAD to bring him in for questioning because i feel like - whether you romance him or not - the Vakarian-Shepard relationship is one of the best ones in the game. 
> 
> has everyone caught up to the timeline? cause i'm pretty sure we're going to jump around again, next section.
> 
> edited to add: btw, did you know there are NO canon language docs regarding Turians? there are some fan-made resources, but i didn't feel comfortable using them (though i couldn't argue with their attempt at using Latin (Roman ref) for their etymology). if i TRULY wanted to get into the thoughts of a Turian, ideally i would have been able to sprinkle some Turian words that just wouldn't translate properly to English in there, but when i approached the idea of trying to take a stab at the Turian language _myself_, i realized that this was how Tolkien went crazy and ended up writing The Lord of the Rings, so-
> 
> that was the long way of saying that this is the core of this section, but (as always) i reserve the right to re-write some of Garrus at some later date. _behaviorally_, i feel like this is a decent Garrus.


	7. Crew Deck: The Broker's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get your ass to Mars." ~ Total Recall

Liara paused in the middle of the ongoing, tedious, and very complicated packing job she was performing to glance at her omni-tool... and instantly realized her mistake.

_And now... I'm going to have to read it. And then... I will discover it contains something that makes me angry all over again. And then I'm going to have to calm myself down and try to go back to packing, because I REALLY don't have the time right now..._

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 12.06.2186. 11:32 MST  
Subject: Re: This morning.  
Message: Shepard apologized to _me_ Thursday night. Well, she sent a damn electronic message.**

**But she didn't explain _why_ she wouldn't talk to me about Alenko, and if I KNEW what to do with the way she's avoiding it, I would be writing HER back instead of you. She also said something about how with me she might just be repeating a pattern, and how she's been questioning everything.**

**_And_ she's avoiding me.**

**You weren't here last week, to see them together: the shared glances, the in-jokes, the tension. I think she still has feelings for him, and that's why she won't talk about him. She doesn't want to lie. Confused feelings, sure, but more than friendly? Absolutely.**

**~James**

\--

Liara went through Vega's email, feeling a powerful sense of deja vu. It 'felt' like she'd already heard this lament... from Kaidan Alenko. It was frankly astonishing that these two men might end up fighting over Shepard like pollinating insects on the last _irssal_ blossom, but it was becoming more clear by the day that neither **trusted** her. And Eliza _knew_ it.

 _This was_ not _supposed to be MY responsibility._

She suddenly remembered a short, repeating vid she'd seen once: a human male, dressed in a uniform, slowly knocking his forehead onto the top of the desk he was sitting behind. It ran with the caption "Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over, and expecting a different outcome." Which was apparently some sort of Terran joke.

Every scientist knew that _countless_ variables (besides one's own effort) went into the creation of a result. Just because, for example, telling the truth in one situation failed to return a favorable outcome, it did NOT necessitate a creative lie in response to the next challenge. It simply meant that _sometimes_ people didn't appreciate truth.

As if on command, the loop in her head began to play; a conversation that occurred near the end of those fraught days after she and Feron had stolen the Commander's remains from the Broker, and T'Soni had made the choice to allow Miranda - and Cerberus - to take them.

\--

"Wouldn't _you_ do **anything** to have her back?"

The Sentinel slammed his fist into the tabletop. "NO! No, I _wouldn't_ , Liara. It's a terrible idea! _Worse_ , now you have hope that they can actually pull it off, whether you admit it to yourself or not, and she's _dead_. _You_ know it. **I** know it. Nothing is going to change it. You made a HUGE mistake."

She hadn't been ready for this to be his first objection, but it was easy enough to deflect. "Your chief issue is _my_ pain? That my... naivete', my... misplaced optimism, will end with my being hurt... if they fail?" Liara stared at Kaidan, moving her head until she basically forced him to meet her eyes. "Understand me, Kaidan - _nothing_ could be worse than what we have right now, at least for me. ANY hope is better than this."

_Be honest with me, and with yourself, Kaidan. You won't change my mind, but I need you to grapple with the possibility that Cerberus WILL do what they claim._

"It's..." The Lieutenant scrubbed at his forehead and shifted away from the table, clearly agitated beyond being able to sit. "It's _Cerberus_ , Liara - there's no way to trust them, or what they'll DO to her. How **could** you deliver her to them? You _know_ how she _felt_ about them."

 _This_ was what T'Soni had assumed would be his primary objection, and she was ready to thwart it. "You said it yourself, Kaidan: she's dead. I'm her executor. **I** think _that_ is what actually bothers you the most. She may have chosen _you_ to love, but she trusted _me_ to settle her accounts. Her body was legally _mine_ to dispose of." Liara allowed her face to soften slightly - he wasn't, after all, her actual enemy.

_Yet._

She cleared her throat. "If you'd married her-" she ignored how Kaidan's back stiffened and twisted as she said this,"- things would be different. I would have... consulted you, if I could have found you quickly enough. But you didn't, and I couldn't wait, in any event. You should know that I don't trust this... _Illusive Man_... as far as I can Throw him, " she paused to see if her pun would cause him to look up, but he continued to stare at the floor, "But I trust that _Shepard_ would have wanted the chance, to continue to fight against the Reapers."

He looked up; brown eyes met blue, and tears stood in the former. Liara bit her lip to keep from babbling some nonsense to soothe him; he'd made this day a living hell for her, and it wasn't over yet.

"Promise me, Liara," Kaidan cleared his throat and started again. "Promise me that you'll get her back. Dead or alive, one way or another, she has to come _back_ to us. **Promise**."

Liara suddenly felt the weight of every day she'd spent in the company of these crazy human beings. She felt _decades_ older than when it had all started.

 _How can_ anyone _**keep** that promise? Doesn't he understand that if Cerberus brings Shepard back to life, _she_ will choose? Does he expect me to violate her free will? And what does it say about him that he would try to get me to do that? Is that not the entire problem with Reaper indoctrination? I NEVER should have told him how many people were vying for her body._

"I promise you, Kaidan, that I will always do what I feel is best for her. And I promise you that I _truly_ believe she is better off with the Alliance. If Cerberus manages to resurrect her, it will be for a _specific purpose_. Assuming she even _agrees_ with their purpose, I will find her - somehow -and I will impress upon her that, when she is done fulfilling their objective, we _need_ her to come home. Good enough?"

Kaidan sighed. Three or four tears had fallen; not enough to qualify as 'weeping', but enough that it was _killing_ Liara not to try to comfort him.

"I guess it has to be."

\--

Liara thought about that man behind the desk, endlessly hitting his head into its glossy wooden surface, and wondered (now that she was half-packed, now that it was theoretically too late) if it was actually a good idea to rejoin the military humans. To let them move her onto the _Normandy_.

She went back to boxing up components, firmly telling her mind to forget all about Vega and Alenko until at LEAST the main display screens, computer hardware, and Glyph's terminal - everything _important_ that was going to the Normandy - were securely crated and ready to be shuttled down to the planet, to journey with her to Mars. She spared a moment to pray that when she returned to the Sol system, Hackett sent the team she'd requested to make sure the crates made the rest of the journey back to Earth without her.

Aside from six hours of sleep, about as much time dealing with Shadow Broker business that Feron determined needed her attention, and several bolted meals, she'd been packing for the last forty-four hours. She had _nearly_ finished... when her omni-tool buzzed with Shepard's alert tone.

_Goddess. Give me strength._

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 20:15 MST  
Subject: what do i do?  
Message: i apologized. i tried. i gave it my best shot. and i haven't heard anything back. i'm unsure who started avoiding who first, but he's drinking again, getting into fights, and i don't know what to do. i feel like it's my fault.**

**~Shepard**

\--

Again her brain flashed up the picture: Human. Uniform. Desk. BONK. bonkbonkbonk...

\--

**From: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186 20:23 MST  
Subject: Grow. UP. (Was: Re: This morning)  
Message: If you actually _care_ about Shepard, _stop_ being a baby, _stop_ avoiding her, _STOP_ BEATING PEOPLE UP, and try again. Be her _friend_. You were on the right track, before: _don't_ push her, but keep asking. She will talk eventually.**

**I believe there's another reason she doesn't relish the idea of discussing what happened during those weeks. Is there a chance the person who toured a large portion of her brain for two days is wrong? Certainly. That she is lying to herself? Always. But my advice is that this is a chance you should take.**

**So when she does start talking, try _listening_.**

**~LTS**

\--

_Like I'm going to explain to you how ashamed a woman can feel when she's been abused half her life, and risks everything to return to a government that then betrays her, and the man she came to trust - who rescued her and clearly wants her - doesn't actually love or trust her. How all of **that** is bringing back every memory of the man she loved doing similar things, arbitrary deciding to leave because the same government ordered it. Then, after she'd moved heaven and hell to return to him, he distrusted her on sight and fled. That _ber'ah-ardat_ does NOT deserve for her to ever love him again. And I'm starting to think the same thing about you. **Idiot.**_

\--

Liara shook her head, pushed send on the electronic message, and hoped she wasn't being too harsh. A lot of the problems Eliza had endured in the last few weeks, after all, had resulted from a group of people being far too harsh with her.

T'Soni's brain skipped back to the unease she'd felt, setting foot on Thessia again, wondering if she was making the wrong decision, leaving the Normandy. Letting Shepard go back to Earth alone.

_If I'd told her what I'd seen of PsiOps communications over those last few weeks, would she have still returned? Would she have believed me, yet gone anyway? And why didn't Kaidan contact her even a DAY earlier?_

So much damage could have been averted. She'd still be whole. Or what passed for whole.

_And things with Vega would almost **certainly** be less complicated._

\--

**From: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 13.06.2186. 20:15 MST  
Subject: Re: what do i do?  
Message: Shepard, if you are truly asking for my opinion, i believe you need to _stop apologizing_. You don't OWE him _anything_. But if you _wish_ to pursue some sort of relationship with this man, you have your window: the chances of your behavior during the next two weeks changing the outcome of your trial are miniscule. I sense you're holding out hope, Shepard, but please begin to accept that (as you humans say) 'the fix is in.'**

**If you do _not_ want to pursue the relationship, for Goddess' sake, just TELL him so. I don't care if you _ever_ tell him about Alenko, but you should be aware that James will convince himself you have changed your mind out of a desire to reunite with Kaidan.**

 **I know comparatively little about the history of your planet, but the little i DO know - and the responsibility of Terran men for it - leads me to surmise it is a rare human male who will look inside _himself_ for causation, analyze the situation, and accept blame. If you expect _either_ of them to say 'I'm sorry I didn't trust you, and sorry my decisions made you question whether I cared for you,' I believe you will be disappointed. If you do ever hear something like that from Lieutenant Vega, I'll revisit my reservations. Right now, I'm unsure of his character, and worried for _you_ , given the Alliance's treatment of you. Not to mention this farce of a trial. Please stop beating yourself up, Shepard. We need you strong.**

**Liara.**

\--

_EVERYBODY needs to stop beating people up._

Liara paused, reconsidering.

_Except, I would perhaps still like to beat up Alenko._

\--

Feron wasn't much for long, involved, good-byes, but they did eat dinner together before their scheduled departure. They used the meal to discuss contingency plans, a set of new codes, and various ways to keep in contact while she was effectively undercover on Mars.

"Will they force you onto a new platform? Is it all classified intel?" Feron was merely picking at his meal; they both were.

Liara sighed. She'd switched out her omni-tool for just that eventuality. "Perhaps. We're definitely on an intranet with limited extranet. Since it's a military installation, I suppose Systems Alliance will be looking at me more as a military contractor." She snorted. "Except I have been _strictly_ prohibited from telling Eliza _anything_ about the Archive."

Feron looked up from his plate. "Just her?"

The Asari's mouth pulled down. "No... _everyone_ except Hackett, who will choose how and when to brief the Committee. But I think he realized it was Shepard I'd want to keep in the loop; he made a point of mentioning her when he said the site was classified and the data 'couldn't be shared with anyone... especially Shepard.' " 

Feron snorted. "Tactful."

Liara shrugged slightly "I'll find a way, if I need to. Right now it makes tactical sense to play along. Expect the first data dump on the fortnight mark, as per our usual long-deployment arrangement. If we need to alter the pickup schedule, I'll let you know in the first dispatch. Send someone... truly competent, please. Unless-" She paused, bit her lip, and decided not to ask. Feron heard her anyway.

"If I leave the ship, the only truly safe course of action is for me to destroy her. I know you realize that. My preference is to stay unless and until it becomes safer to depart than remain. But if you discover something of monumental value on Mars, and the only person you will trust to do the pickups is me, you have only to let me know."

His quiet soliloquy resonated in her gut. _He is terrified of being in the wrong place when they arrive, and is convinced they will hit Sol first. But he will do it, if I need him. That means everything._

"Send Verilen. She is a decent engineer, unobtrusive, patient, and calm under pressure. She knows Alliance protocols well enough to acquire a uniform and fake it, should their security only allow Alliance personnel to disembark." Liara again perused the map of the Mars installation that Hackett had relayed with his orders. She knew she was only fidgeting. They'd thought out every angle of this drop. It was the best plan.

It was the _only plan._

"I still believe the coordinates we agreed on are our best option."

Feron nodded slowly. "Depending on their security protocols, it's risky, but yes. I agree." He stood up, pushing his plate to the middle of the workstation they'd been using as a table. "Are you ready to leave?"

Liara exhaled, glancing around the large circular room. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a home, but it had been the place of her... _rebirth_ , into a more powerful form. Suddenly she realized she was unlikely to ever see it again. She glanced at Feron. _Or him._

"Yes. Let's go."

\--

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 21.06.2186. 18:22 MST  
Subject: Recap  
Message: Your old Turian friend stopped by today. We spoke about our dreams, among other things. I anticipate business is wrapping up and will go as we discussed. May want to reach out now, while you still can, since I know you're on the move. BTW, your luggage has been delivered and locked away. If you followed my suggestions as to itinerary, I'm sure all will be well.**

**Hackett**

\--

**From: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 21.06.2186. 19:22 MST  
Subject: upcoming changes  
Message: I am glad you got to see our old Turian friend. I've heard from mutual contacts that it is likely you will be entering a new contract soon, and wanted to be sure you understood that I won't be able to share my daily drudgery with you as we normally endeavor to do. If you absolutely need to contact me, read between the lines.**

**Be well, Shepard. _Make_ them listen. Make them prepare.**

**Liara.**

\--

**From: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 21.06.2186. 19:34 MST  
Subject: changes  
Message: I have it on good authority that it will be soon. She will be devastated. You, also, may end up being quite upset when you hear what they have planned. TRY NOT TO BE A BRAT ABOUT IT.**

**~LTS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been fiddling with this one a lot longer than the others because (again) trying to figure out what an alien's inner monologue might sound like became A Thing. i wanted to do really well with it, but i'm not sure how much i like what i ended up with. expect potential editing once i push through the rest of the pieces.
> 
> the point, however, is intact; you get (IMHO) valuable insight into the primary 'ship, some time-catching-up, and an outside perspective from our Deanna Troi stand-in. do you guys feel bad for friend-zoned Liara? i sort of do. My canon (biotic, Paragon) Shepard is VERY close to Liara/they're close friends, and this passage attempts to make that clear. While some Shepards i've played can get pretty impatient with how Liara breaks down when it's finally HER planet being destroyed later on, i have a feeling THIS Shepard is going to be fairly upset.
> 
> ber'ah-ardat ~ strange/beautiful demon. Liara is fairly unhappy with Alenko. i didn't find a ton of language references, but there was this: https://cdn.fandom.com/wiki/Asari_Language


	8. Crew Deck: The Starboard Lounge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did you just... grab my _bottom_?"  
> "I'm a weak man."
> 
> ~ DAI, Cullen and an Orlesian gentleman.

Major Kaidan Alenko hadn't been on the Citadel three days together before the enormity of what he'd done sunk in. He was forced to face the truth: he had a serious problem with his new job.

Surprisingly, it wasn't his boss. Even if the hours Kaidan spent with the Ambassador were consumed by satisfying Udina's need for praise and reassurance, his daily contact with the man was minimal; there weren't many such hours. Kaidan had also become fairly adept at soothing prima donnas; he strongly suspected this was why Anderson had chosen him.

Even though his new post had required an insane amount of study, and he _still_ felt woefully unprepared, he didn't have a problem with the workload either. True, to accrue the fifty hours of training required of a diplomatic attache', he'd slid out of the apartment building in Eastside without notice (which he still regretted) and spent nearly _every waking minute_ between 16:00 MST Monday and 10:00 MST Thursday reading about Embassy protocol. When he wasn't studying, he was passing exams and doing the paperwork. Kaidan now knew more than he'd _ever_ wanted to know about how the Citadel and Council actually ran. Somewhere in there, he'd received his new bars from one of the Generals he actually respected, which... almost made the promotion _mean_ something.

And - as annoying as they were - it wasn't the social commitments. He'd been forced to spend Friday and Saturday nights in two different posh parties on the Presidium, eschewing his favored whiskey for strangely-colored concoctions, delicately removing hands (and once, _talons_ ) from his new uniform, and making idle chitchat while memorizing the names, habits, and ranks of everyone around him. He wasn't the type of person who would _ever_ enjoy such things, but they weren't new, and he could endure them.

Alenko's problem wasn't Udina. It wasn't the unfamiliar alcohol or food, the grabby hands (or talons), or endless studying and memorization. It was simply being _back on the Citadel_ for the first time in three damn years.

_With all the **memories**._

\--

It was mid-day Monday, and Kaidan had just finished sending a coded report to Anderson. He'd been running from meeting to party to dinner to meeting since Friday morning, but now he was experiencing the first significant period of downtime since his arrival. 

He found himself walking the Wards.

He told himself he was merely wandering, but when his gaze settled on the apartment building in Kithoi Ward that he and Shepard had shared for those two amazing weeks in '83, he was forced to acknowledge he'd ended up here accidentally-on-purpose. His chest contracted in pain; he realized he was starting to glow, and furthermore: people had noticed.

Kaidan forced himself to calm, turned his back on the building, and kept walking. Unfortunately (but somewhat inevitably) he stumbled on the noodle place they'd frequented. The BBQ place that he'd loved, and she had ridiculed his addiction to. The amphitheater where they'd seen two celebratory concerts in one week, sitting in a box with the rest of the crew of the SR-1.

_This was a mistake. I need to retreat to the Presidium._

Not that there weren't memories chasing him there, too, but time in the Tower had been far less less warm and fuzzy. In just four days, he'd already been in enough meetings to dim the firey recollection of Saren's death, and his short-lived panic that Shepard had died with him.

He'd also expected the meeting place Aurel had chosen in the Upper Wards would be fine... until he actually strolled through, passing a couple gazing out the wide windows on the _same_ damn observation platform where he'd stood with Shepard and Williams, three years prior. A subdued - but surprisingly deep - hurt made him frown. He leaned against one of the metal walls and allowed his eyes to close against the memory of a green Lieutenant, fresh off transfer, stupidly letting slip how attracted he was to his commanding officer. 

Standing here again, after everything that had happened, simply... **hurt**.

\--

"You did _WHAT_?"

Aurel sighed and glanced pointedly around the crowded bar. "I contacted her. And him. Though I used my ops ID for the latter."

Kaidan successfully fought to lower his voice, and grated out "Was I somehow unclear when I told you to NOT do that?"

Aurel, dressed in an impeccable, obviously expensive grey-blue suit, tie perfectly knotted, long blond hair caught in a low ponytail bound in blue cord, raised both eyebrows. "I thought it was less of an _order_ and more of a _suggestion_." He sipped on a tall glass of fruit juice over ice and grimaced. "Sobriety sucks."

His mentor snorted. "It may 'suck', but it's an excellent idea to dry out between parties. Now answer my damn question."

Aurel smiled beguilingly. Kaidan gritted his teeth. The kid wasn't above trying to charm _him_ , too. "I wanted the information and I was careful. You need to trust me." He paused and glanced around again, frowning slightly. "We're going to want to pick up the pace, I think, if only to meet somewhere other than a bar. Maybe get a room in the Wards."

Alenko sighed loudly and shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Not the Wards. My place. Look, do you have _any_ leads?"

Aurel shrugged and dropped his voice even further. "A few. Moreover, I have a new boyfriend who can get in and out of the system almost as well as E. Meeting him was kismet - he's over two meters tall, crewcut, shoulders almost as wide as-"

"Aurel." Kaidan's tone was low, quiet, and carried a hint of warning. "This isn't a game. The Citadel isn't your personal hunting ground. Don't blow it."

The blond man placed one manicured - _when had the little jerk found time to get his nails done?_ \- hand to his chest and murmured "I'm insulted. You know how rarely I blow jobs."

The Major rolled his eyes and sipped on his own drink. "Just be damn careful. Four days of hedonism and we have next to nothing to show for it. We don't have forever."

"Exactly why I took the chance, _ber'ah Terran_. Try not to worry. If E has a _modicum_ of sense, all will be well."

"Oh... _great_. **Very** reassuring."

\--

Kaidan was in the middle of eating something that was pretending to be a chicken salad sandwich (though he wished he had managed to fool himself that it was actually _chicken_ ) when his omni-tool chimed with the _'urgent'_ alert.

 _What now?_ He popped open his message interface.

**_AL: MEET NOW._ **

_Well... that answers_ that _question._

**KA: where?**  
**_AL: Flux_ **

_Wonderful. Another fake pick-up. I guess we really_ are _full-speed-ahead on our cover._

**KA: be there 5**

He wrapped his lunch to take with him, and hopped into a Citadel Rapid Transport car. As he entered Flux, he spotted Aurel - in a different natty suit - leaning on the bar. The younger man tilted his head toward the stairs.

Kaidan raised his eyes to the mezzanine and sighed. He'd spent what felt like several _years_ of his life up there in '83, watching Shepard game the Quasar machines to accrue funds to buy better armor for her ground crew.

_If Tom used the Urgent code to pull me in here to finance a gambling spree, I **will** strangle him._

Even at noon the gambling floor was nearly full. Aurel was leaning against the wall opposite the staircase, looking down at the dance floor. Alenko wondered if he'd chosen one of the spots the cameras didn't cover, and immediately realized of course he had.

He strode slowly along the railing, stopping about a meter away from his subordinate. He leaned over and rested his weight on the rail, pivoting to casually peruse first the row of Quasar slots, and then the dance floor.

"Let's hear it."

"Got a reply."

Kaidan turned a bit, as if the person lighting up the machine near him had intrigued him. "That was fast."

"Useful, too. I transcribed it. Take a look." Aurel held out a battered hard copy of _Fornax_ with a small sheet of paper just peeking out from under the cover. Kaidan made a face, and Aurel laughed at him and started to retract the magazine. The older biotic sighed and grabbed it.

Alenko turned fully toward the open space, ignoring the dancers below. He rested the porn magazine on the railing, and carefully slid out the note. He scanned through the message, brow furrowed. When he hit the last line, he chuffed in sardonic amusement.

"An **autograph?** _Arrogance_ is a cover now?"

Aurel blinked at Kaidan, then pursed his lips. "You get that she's a celebrity, right?"

The older biotic coughed wryly. "Riiight. So, what - you dragged me down here because she thinks Bailey is clean? What's the big deal?"

Aurel **rolled** his eyes, _hard_. "How did you survive the Corps for so long and remain an idiot?" he hissed. "READ each capitalized letter."

Kaidan arched both brows at Aurel's tone, scanned the note again, and blinked.

_'Also knew VP'... that would be Venari Pallin. But what the hell does 'ear in doc...'_

"Ear in doc?" he muttered, "What-?"

"Sounds like _indoctrination_ ," Aurel whispered harshly. "She's saying she _also_ knew Pallin, and his behavior sounds way off, like he was being controlled. But unless she asked A for details, she doesn't have all the 'extra' information, just the news reports. So it remains a possibility that Pallin realized he'd been set up by Cerberus, thought Bailey was with them, and _that's_ why he resisted arrest." Aurel sighed, shifted, and glanced at the people playing Quasar, as if bored. "Still, it's _valuable_ to know Shepard thought this was out of character."

Alenko furrowed his brows and thought back. Come to think of it, he vaguely remembered Pallin too, from '83. The ground team had gone into his office for... something... and the Executor barely had the time of day for the first _human_ Spectre, let alone her _human_ entourage. But he thought he remembered that, later on, _something_ had happened between them. Eliza hadn't wanted to talk about it.

All Alenko remembered Garrus saying about it was that a man in the Wards had asked Shepard for help. That wasn't strange; people asked her for help all the time. But this had something to do with her family back on Earth.

_When I asked her about it... what did she say? I can't... remember. Something about the past? Letting the past rest? **DAMMIT.**_

"Uh.... Earth to K. You still in there?"

"Yeah." Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck. "Just... trying to remember something that happened years ago." He turned to watch the gamblers, and lowered his voice again. "Something between Pallin and E. They told me there was a guy in the Lower Wards who knew E's family back on Earth, asked her to help him with... something. I wasn't there. But..." The biotic sighed. "Garrus or Liara might know." He met Aurel's eyes briefly, flushed, and turned to leave. "I wonder if either of them will open my emails."

\--

**From: Garrus Vakarian (garrus_vakarian@18th_reserves.menae.net)  
To: Lt. Kaidan Alenko (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil), Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 18.06.2186. 10:40 TST  
Subject: Re: Question About the Past  
Message: Headed to Earth tonight. Testifying Monday. Will look into it if I have time, and message back after I see Shepard, if all seems well.**

 **~Garrus**

\--

Kaidan's weekend was consumed by more parties, more brightly-colored alcoholic cocktails, more strange alien foods, more hands to dislodge. Saturday night, he managed a few minutes' tête-à-tête with Aurel in one of the quieter alcoves designed for that purpose. Between the younger biotic's swinging blond hair and the use of careful angles, their face proximity was meant to mimic a restrained make-out session.

 _So much for the perfect cover - the fact that Aurel has_ already _embarked on another relationship makes it a **bit** less appropriate for a diplomatic attache to be pursuing him. Now I get to wait around until the first high-placed assistant asks me when I plan to break it off. So much for dating exclusively for a few weeks and remaining friends when he moves on. Sometimes he doesn't THINK._

Kaidan had wondered more than once whether or not it was logical for someone who had already turned down offers of sexual favors with multiple people at these parties to instead pursue someone as blatantly flirtatious (and potentially _expensive_ ) as Aurel Lehmann. Now it was showtime, and his misgivings would NOT go away. Still, he had intel to deliver, and he might as well do it.

He allowed the shorter man to tug him onto the sofa, gave the husky laugh they'd agreed on as a signal, and then - when Aurel moved in - Kaidan whispered "Sent a message to Garrus, copied Liara, heard back from Garrus, he's on Earth to testify, will look into it and get back to me after he sees Shepard."

Aurel bumped Kaidan's face with his nose - another signal - and whispered "Bailey is here tonight. I want him to see us. It will help provide cover for my affair with Karl. Can't see Bailey being happy about my fucking a coworker, let alone someone who reports to me. You remember how messy that sort of thing can get, right?"

Kaidan gritted his teeth, momentarily wishing he was the type of person who _would_ actually _bite_ someone who stuck in a knife like that.

_**Low** blow, Tom... Low. Blow._

"Fine. Has he seen us? And, more importantly, did you _already_ compromise your cover with this boyfriend, or does he think you're leading me on for my money and position?"

_Damnit, Tom, let it be the latter._

Aurel nuzzled Kaidan's neck, and the older man tried not to flinch. "The former, though I've told him very little about the actual investigation; enough to help him find the documents I need when he hacks in for me. He knows we're military, that I needed a way to talk to you, AND it seemed like a good way to keep Bailey from finding out about him and I. It's actually significantly harder to sneak away when you both work in the same department. Even though I'm technically management, I don't handle scheduling. We end up on opposite shifts annoyingly often. Stupid Citadel and its weird time clock."

Kaidan sighed loudly, endeavoring to sound _lustful_ , but afraid he sounded all too aggravated.

_Right. He entrusted the entire op to a person he just met. And YOU trained him, Kaidan. The debrief on THIS one ought to be HILARIOUS._

He nodded his head slightly, angled his face, and bumped Aurel with _his_ nose, signaling the comment that would end their conversation, if the other man didn't object by tapping him with a knee. No tap.

"I swear, Tom. If you manage to get us made before we EVEN find out if Shepard was correct about Pallin, I will have your _hide_. I don't care WHY you trusted this Karl fellow; it's your _first_ time heading an investigation, and that's _two_ off-list decisions on this job already. It doesn't look good."

A weird dread in his stomach, Kaidan slipped Aurel a square of plastic - the key to his tiny Presidium studio apartment, and slid off the couch. He kept hold of Aurel's hand just a second too long, then straightened his suit, and glanced around surreptitiously. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Commander Bailey, in uniform, speaking with a Turian about four meters away. Unless the man was blind or criminally unobservant, mission accomplished.

\--

**From: Garrus Vakarian (garrus_vakarian@18th_reserves.menae.net)  
To: Lt. Kaidan Alenko (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil), Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 22.06.2186. 01:04 TST  
Subject: Re: A Question About the Past  
Message: My testimony went as well as expected. In case you're interested, Chakwas is slated for tomorrow, and all indications point to her being the last witness. It will be over soon. As for what happened with Pallin, I think I can tell you. Liara may remember it differently, so feel free to correct me if I'm misremembering, T'Soni.**

**A human male waylaid the three of us in the Lower Wards. Being who she is, Eliza agreed to speak to him, eventually seeming to remember him. He had some sort of bird name I can't recall; it was probably an alias anyway. He asked Shepard for help freeing a former member of her family, Curt Weisman, from detention. I only remember the name because of his crime.**

**Shepard was initially willing, but soon discovered that some of her extended family had become violently anti-alien. Weisman was in custody because they suspected - and later proved - he was responsible for poisoning a shipment of medical supplies. If the colony hadn't caught it, those supplies would have killed hundreds of thousands of Turians (he was eventually convicted of a hate crime and is still serving his sentence).**

**Eliza was incensed (far angrier than she'd allowed herself to get at Williams) but she managed to charm the guy into giving up his attempt. I'm not sure what they said to each other; I was sitting a few meters away, and they were quiet, but directly after the bird-man ran away, she went to Pallin about it.**

**Hearing about the attempt to free Weisman informed the Executor's decisions as to what to do with him, and Pallin began to soften toward the Commander. Perhaps his shift in demeanor wouldn't have been apparent to a human, but to a Turian it was clear she had gained his respect, maybe even his trust. And she liked him, too.**

**I mean, not as much as she likes _me_ , but-**

**~Garrus**

\--

Kaidan scanned the email, grim-faced. Another week had begun and they were still chasing ghosts. Aurel was wading through financials and immigration records, both legitimately obtained (through his job) and hacked out of the Citadel's confidential files (courtesy of his new boyfriend), while Kaidan posed in his uniform and preened.

And it was getting _old_.

Yes, he'd signed up for it. But he hadn't signed up for enduring all the painful memories, or standing by while Tom cut corners right and left, and wondering _when_ the younger man would get caught.

**KA: My apartment. After work.**

He waited, rubbing his temples.

**_AL: why? i have another date_ **

_What the **hell**? You don't get to blow ME off, Tom._

**KA: You don't have to stay. I have something to show you.**  
**_AL: i bet you say that to all the boys. fine. be there in 20_ **

_I wonder if Hackett and Anderson have a wager as to whether or not we finish this investigation before I kill him._

\--

Lehmann was still in his C-Sec uniform when he showed up at Alenko's already-open door. "That was twenty- _three_ minutes, Aurel."

The blond rolled his eyes. "You can dock my payment, Master." The half-dozen people within earshot _all_ looked up at that one.

"GET IN HERE, " the older man grated. He clenched his jaw and pivoted back into his apartment. Aurel followed him closely, and - once the door had shut behind him - almost immediately began to apologize.

"Look, Kaidan, I'm sorry. It's been a long, shitty day without much progress on a lead I was _sure_ would pan out, and I'm getting aggravated. But that doesn't mean I take it out on my superior. And I'm sorry I'm late, but Bailey caught me _just_ as I was shutting down my station and asked approximately a million questions. Now **I'm** getting concerned he suspects something is going on. Just... not a good day." Aurel flung himself theatrically onto the sofa, draping himself over the wide armrest like a boneless cat.

 _I just want to know if he does it on_ purpose. _Eliza is ALSO insanely persuasive... but she's not dramatic about it. She doesn't have to be. This clown has angst to burn today._

The dark-haired man shook his head and walked to the wall that served as his kitchen. "Do you need a drink or something?"

Aurel shuddered. "No. I mean, I'd love one, but no. I have to be in top form in fifteen minutes. Karl is pretty... athletic. Gotta keep him happy."

Alenko's radar went off. "Wait." He grabbed two bottles of purified water from the kitchen and tossed one to his coworker as he approached the sofa, "Are you **OK**?"

Aurel shrugged. "Yeah. Just tired. Why?"

Kaidan blinked. "Uh... because - for a second - it sounded like you were _maybe_ being _abused_ , that's why."

The younger man snorted out a laugh. " _No_ , I'm OK. I'm just _incredibly_ out of shape. I don't know how I let myself get this way - it's only been, what, two months? Three? Silly, stupid Justin Wilcott, with his unattractive sycophancy, and his pathetic single lifestyle. And Zavala never had _time_." Aurel flopped over on his side, stretching. "I've never asked how extensive your experience is - though I'd bet my pension you haven't slept with anyone since Shepard, and that's just SAD - but have you ever had sex with another guy? One who's in shape, I mean?"

Kaidan felt his brows rise to his hairline. "This is your business... _why_?"

Aurel sighed impatiently. "It's not, _obviously_. It's just - most men who'd never had sex with another guy would probably assume it was more strenuous to perform well with a woman, and - at least for me - it's _not_. I suppose... if I was willing to drape myself over a piece of furniture and bottom all the time, maybe, but that's _so boring_. Then again, being on the bottom with a woman riding is the _ultimate_ in Lazy Pleasure, so-"

" **TOM**." Kaidan's tone of voice was such that Aurel's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence. The older man shut his eyes and counted to ten.

_One. Two. Three. Don't kill him. Four. Five. You need him. Six. Seven. For NOW, at least. Eight-_

Aurel stood up, brushed off his uniform, and started for the door. "Sorry if that was too graphic. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Suffice to say, I know I've been more tired before, but right now I can't remember when. And I gotta go."

"Wait." Alenko held out his arm and brought up Garrus' message. "I told you to come by so you could read this; read it before you bolt out of here."

The blond man paused, craned his neck, and rapidly scanned the email. Then he frowned, actually stepped back to where he could read it more easily, and appeared to be going through it again more slowly.

"Damn. They're done _already_? She's gonna **flip** when they boot her. This SUCKS." Aurel ran a hand over his hair, and Kaidan could see his real distress reflected in the crinkled brows and still down-turned mouth.

"Yeah, it does. Everyone knew it was coming, though, including - hopefully - her. What about what Garrus said, though?"

Aurel was taking a careful picture of Kaidan's omni-tool with his own. He hit some keys that Alenko guessed password-protected the file. "Yeah, that's interesting. _Old news_ , but it reinforces what she told us about Pallin if they were actually close. Of course-" the younger man paused in thought, and then shook his head,"-that was before she died. She first contacted Bailey in '85, right? No mention of her renewing her acquaintance with Pallin?"

Kaidan shook his head. "Nothing official. I'm almost done with the C-Sec meeting diaries you delivered. I'm up to the beginning of '86 anyway. Nothing so far."

"What did you think about the entries I flagged?"

Kaidan pursed his lips. "I agreed with at least six of them, so they're probably all worth pursuing."

Aurel sighed. "I've already crossed three back off my list, but it's good to be thorough. Any new ones?"

"No. You flagged everything I would have, likely more."

The Vanguard allowed a brilliant - if tired - smile to light his face. "That means a lot, boss."

_Good Lord. He actually does look exhausted._

"Get out of here. Make him buy you dinner first, or something. I'll finish those diaries and move on to the financial records you dropped off yesterday."

Aurel's grin quirked, became wicked. "Again your ignorance amazes me. You don't want to eat _before_ , Kaidan. That's just begging the Universe for a bad performance, punctuated by belches and farts."

"Get _OUT_ of here."

\--

**Lt. Kaidan Alenko (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 24.06.2186. 15:04 MST  
Subject: so...  
Message: I heard through the grapevine that deliberation wrapped up today, and they have a verdict. They're announcing tomorrow, then? You have an idea what's coming, yes? They've been that upfront with you, at least?**

**Eliza, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't make them completely believe you. I'm sorry about how hurt you must be to have tried to do everything right only to have people treat you poorly... myself included.**

**And I'm sorry they chose something for you that you likely didn't want... but maybe it won't be so bad to be a contractor? Someone has to keep trying to convince everyone the threat is real. It isn't the SR-2, but it's _important_. I'm sorry about the itinerary, the publicity, the damn politics...**

**If for some reason they let you off-planet before they call me back home, please come by.**

**~Kaidan.**

\--

Kaidan acknowledged to himself that there were a LOT of lies in the email he'd just sent. From his rank (he'd managed to retain 'Lieutenant' on his PsiOps ID, even though his new diplomatic message platform listed his rank correctly) all the way down to the polite fiction that she might not know which way the wind was blowing. And _everything_ after 'I'm so sorry you're hurt and I'm part of that' was pure fabrication.

 _I'm_ glad _they're taking her seriously enough to give her the authority to brief reserve forces. I'm_ glad _they're giving her the resources she needs. I'm GLAD she's being put into a position to make a huge difference in our preparedness. Even being transferred by the military into a role she didn't want to do - well - maybe it will give her a tiny glimpse into what **I've** been through during the last three years._

He bit his lip and admitted that he was also perversely happy that - if she ever _did_ choose to forgive him, if she ever _did_ want to... well... _try again_ \- regulations would no longer be an issue.

_Of course... there's no regs making things more difficult between her and anyone **else** now, either._

Alenko frowned, accepting that maybe, just maybe, he was the Bad Guy after all, because...

_... I can't help it. I'm fucking GLAD they're being separated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Citadel is heating up. since i've given the Earthborn background my own twist, Garrus' email reflects how this Paragon (mostly) Shepard handled the canon altercation with Finch in '83. As part of the mystery it ends up being nearly irrelevant, but it's included here to illustrate how very little this Alenko knows about this Shepard.
> 
> i also wanted to make clear that this Kaidan (while still by nature a Boy Scout) DOES lie, DOES have negative feelings, does harbor a great deal of regret for his actions. don't worry, he'll be back closer to canon after the mess on the Citadel falls out and he's left holding the bag, but right now he's still at a nadir remembering how the love of his life blasted him unconscious in a slum in Vancouver. still, if this Kaidan doesn't feel like _your_ canon Kaidan, i completely understand. this one has been a successful SpecOps operative for several years and is only now starting to lose it due to conflict with his authentic self.
> 
> another one of the themes of this set of stories is that you can only lie to yourself for so long. James will probably manage it a _bit_ longer than everyone else, but hopefully he'll come around, too.
> 
> speaking of lying to himself, Aurel's section is up next. and if you have an uneasy feeling about Tom playing both ends against the middle, well, first i congratulate you on your metaphor. second... yeah, he's having quite the fortnight. the worst part is that you already know they're not going to be able to catch Cerberus yet, dammit.
> 
> Tom calls Kaidan "ber'ah Terran", or 'beautiful/strange human.' he may eventually explain, but in case he doesn't, this is something Benezia used to call _him_. the weird thing is that Liara ALSO uses it to describe Kaidan, which could eventually elicit quite the comedy sketch if they were to ever meet again and have all the truth come tumbling out.
> 
> sadly, they will not. or at least not for MANY chapters.
> 
> lastly, as you may have figured out if you've played DAI, Cullen At The Winter Palace was part of my inspiration for writing Kaidan At The Citadel. now (if you've played Dragon Age as well) you have a visual.


	9. Crew Deck: The Port Observation Deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You could change what you do in the future."  
> "What would that require, exactly? It seems to me that feeling guilty would take up a great deal of my time as it is."  
> "Perhaps you could save a life, instead? One for every life you have taken."  
> "That is a great many lives to save and feel guilty as well. Perhaps I could do one or the other?"
> 
> ~DA:O, Zevran and Wynne.
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Tom didn't start out as my homage to Zevran, but, well, here we are.
> 
> disclaimer: if you have an issue with M/M sex, bondage, or service tops performing sexual torture, you might want to skip this chapter and just say to yourself "Oh, that rascal Tom!" more seriously, check out the new tags and figure out whether or not you want to read this. if not, you'll miss some character development, but 50% just my original characters.

To his credit, Aurel absolutely ascertained he'd been made two days after Bailey grilled him at his desk. To his chagrin, he couldn't confirm he'd been _played_ until almost a week later.

Striving for some objectivity, he truly believed he hadn't gotten obsessed and sloppy. He'd cut a few corners and perhaps trusted his gut a _bit_ too much, but that wasn't the end of the world.

He was _tired_ ; that was all. He was legitimately working _full-time_ for Bailey. A surprising amount of correspondence, meetings, favors, and interpersonal Council drama went along with being the Commander of C-Sec, and Owen punted eighty percent of it down to his Lieutenants. Then, after Aurel left his cover-job, he took up his _real_ job, reading on average a hundred documents a day. He'd already chased over a dozen leads to their inevitable dead ends. But that was the reality of investigative work: a lot of effort for very little reward.

At least until you finally caught the bad guy.

He was _not_ distracted by his new, young, strong, articulate hacker boyfriend to the exclusion of all else, as Alenko had insinuated. He was merely juggling far more balls than Karl's.

This was what Aurel reassured himself with... when he started catching small discrepancies in C-Sec scheduling. 

\--

A week to the day after Bailey had interrogated him, he realized he'd picked up a tail. The next day, it became clear that someone was trying to follow him _again_. In fact, the tail resumed whenever he wasn't in C-Sec headquarters. It was amusing... for about four hours. He toyed with them a bit, testing their inventiveness. They really seemed to think he had no idea they were there.

 _Their poor luck that I'll_ never again _be oblivious to a tail, no matter how tired I am. Gilliam cured me of that... while afflicting me with permanent paranoia._

Furthermore, Aurel was fairly certain the people tailing him weren't professionals. Certainly the one following him this morning was no spy. He checked his chron.

_Fifteen minutes. I'm more than fucking ready to find out who this bugger is._

He made a sharp right hand turn into Dark Star.

\--

Aurel immediately went to the back of the lounge and pivoted into a corner. He snaked off his suit jacket, took off his tie, unbuttoned two shirt buttons, pulled an elastic band out of his pocket, gathered his hair into a queue, and slipped on a pair of black-rimmed tinted eyeglasses. The entire procedure took less than thirty seconds. He slid into the booth next to his alcove and popped open his omni-tool. He angled his arm so that he appeared to be _frowning_ at an article on the holo, but in reality his gaze was flipping left and right to the two sets of doors.

And there he was. All muscled two meters of him.

_Karl. **Fuuuuuuuck**. I fucking knew it. Too perfect. Too easy to seduce. Or, rather, just hard enough to make it a challenge, while always having the undercurrent of being a sure thing. Just my fucking luck that I'm going to have to tell Kaidan Fucking Alenko he was right, AGAIN._

Aurel watched his lover discretely cruise the bar, hiding his confusion well, finally ordering some sort of drink and retreating to a table near the front where his substantial bulk stuck out like a sore thumb.

_So. The question becomes: is he a random plant? Or... did whoever set him on me **know** about my crush on Vega, and recruit him because he looks a bit like James? At least in the dark. Enough to pretend..._

Aurel felt himself going cold and locking down his emotions. Dispassionately, he conceded that he truly liked Karl Higgins. The man was intelligent, funny, seemed warm and caring.

_But if I don't like the answers I get tonight, well..._

\--

It was fortuitous that they generally shared Wednesday work schedules. Aurel wondered if that was why Karl had been detailed to follow him that morning. But it gave the biotic a bunch of chances to trip Karl up, and at least half of them bore fruit.

"So..." Aurel lowered his voice as he passed by Karl's chair, "I thought I saw you up near the shops this morning, sweetheart, but when I got to Saronis you weren't there."

Karl stiffened, just slightly, in his seat. "Oh," he whispered, "that wasn't me, Aurel - I haven't even been in Zakera today."

This was easy to disapprove; he even had his choice of evidence: checkpoints or cameras. Both had recorded his boyfriend's entry and exit from Zakera.

_Instinctive defensiveness, horrible lie. Especially for someone who works in C-Sec. Even just in hospitality._

Later, "Hey - " He placed his hand on Karl's beefy shoulder, and the hacker spun his chair around to look up. "I know our shift is over at 20:00, but I can cut you loose a bit earlier. I mean, I know you were thinking about going to see that new vid tonight, and I'm beat; I'm gonna grab food and crash at my place."

His reply: "That's OK. I'm good to stay til the end and see a later showing. Besides, I want to walk you home." Karl's smile wasn't as potent as Aurel's, but it was still warm and sweet. Aurel felt almost _bad_ about the entrapment. Then he shook it off.

"Well... if you're sure you're fine, I think _I'll_ cut out early. There isn't much left on my desk, and nothing you can't cover. I'll take off at 19:00; I have some errands to run, people to check on. I appreciate the offer to escort me, but I'm not going to be much use tonight. I need to sleep."

Aurel watched Karl squirm around at his station for a half hour - messaging back and forth with someone for fifteen of those minutes - before the large man stood and sidled up the ramp to his direct superior's desk. The Vanguard ignored him, working on paperwork, until Karl finally cleared his throat.

When he looked up, Aurel pretended surprise. "Karl! What can I do for you?"

The hacker looked down at the ground. "I'm, uh, having sort of a stomach thing, Aurel. If it's OK, I _will_ leave a little bit early, but I don't want to stick you here with the full shift if you're exhausted. I asked Bailey if it was OK, and he said Greenland can cover for us both, as long as it's just an hour. So I'll walk you home after all."

 _ **Fuck** , he's bad at this._ Aurel stifled a sigh, felt a muscle tick in his neck. _Tonight it is. I need to decide, then, and quickly. Force? Or persuasion?_

He gazed up at Karl, allowing his eyelashes to flutter the tiniest bit. "If you INSIST. I suppose I can hold off on my errands, get you home sooner. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Just... don't throw up in my living room, OK?"

Karl grinned; Aurel wanted to snort at his mysterious disappearing stomach flu. "I won't, love. I'll be... very careful." His grin spread a bit, into "cheeky" territory, before he strode down the ramp back to his desk.

 _You've already been very_ not _careful... love._

\--

"Drink? Food?... Antacid?" Aurel waited until he heard the door slide shut before turning around to consider Karl. He slowly unknotted his tie and casually wrapped it around his fist, thumbing the silk.

_Demand... or cajole? Perhaps I'm too pissed off to make an objective choice._

"I'd love some tea, actually."

One more thing about Karl that Aurel found adorable: the man unironically liked tea. It was just such a _Shepard_ thing to do. He turned to his kitchenette and put on a pot of water.

_Do I have it in me to torture someone I care about?_

He'd never had to, that was the problem. Aurel didn't even remember the last time he'd had to question an unwilling perpetrator. Certainly not in PsiOps. Gilliam had been in hiding and by the time Zavala cornered her, her fate was sealed. After they figured out she was the one who had nearly stabbed him to death, he'd sought and received approval to terminate her. It happened.

Wilcott had been 'in' with the conspirators; they'd talked freely (until they refused to talk at all, but by that time he'd already moved on). Many times Tom had identified who had the information they needed, Kaidan discretely Reaved them unconscious, and their fingerprints opened their computer databases, job done: Jeffries and Winter had left every damn detail of their lives on their workstations. He'd been given a directive to kill Ford. And on it went. Dozens of conspirators apprehended or dead in the year and a half he'd worked for Spec Ops.

But he'd never had to torture someone.

_I suppose... there's a first time for everything._

\--

Karl wasn't hard to seduce. His fake nausea disappeared gratifyingly quickly when the biotic offered him oral sex. Or, rather, when Aurel went down on his knees and pushed the hacker back onto one of his sturdy kitchen chairs and went to work on the button fly of his uniform pants.

"Don't spill hot tea on me," was the last thing Aurel said before he closed his mouth over Karl's cock. He heard a teacup rattle down onto the kitchen table, miss the saucer, and almost tip over (apparently) because his lover made a grab for it.

_Christ. He's nervous as a fucking schoolboy. Fine, we'll start with persuasion, and God help him if we have to move on to something less fun._

Aurel didn't mess around. Not yet. He ran his tongue in swirling circles in a spiral down Karl's penis, then deep-throated him with a sucking sound. The loud groan above him was expected, but sweet nonetheless.

 _I fucking only have the one tie. Should have planned better. Then again, if it doesn't at least_ appear _spontaneous, he could spook._

After only a minute or so, Karl gave him the perfect excuse, doing _exactly_ what Aurel needed him to do... as the hacker's hands went to the back of Aurel's head and tentatively pulled.

_Thank you, lack of self-control._

He withdrew his mouth completely, and - with the striking speed of a snake - twisted and grabbed the man's hands. It had to be fast; Karl wasn't as built as James, but he was fairly strong; Aurel didn't want to use Stasis (and give away what he was) unless he _absolutely_ had to. Also, his Stasis was sort of pitiful, even at the best of times. It might not hold the muscular hacker for long. Of course, getting into a violent tussle with someone he cared about was _also_ sub-optimal.

_Unless it turns out he's working for Cerberus._

"Uht uh. That's on my list of 'don'ts'... remember?" The tie flipped out of his hands, and he began winding it expertly around Karl's wrists. He waited for the man to struggle, to say something, but there was a weird little smile on his lover's face instead. Aurel rose to his feet and attached the tie to the headrest of the kitchen chair, bending Karl's arms back and down slightly, until his hands were resting half on the chair back and half behind his neck. There was no resistance; the biotic began to wonder who was playing who.

_Could I have missed something? Can he get away somehow?_

"-I remember," Karl was saying. He tested the tie with his massive arms and winced.

"Is it cutting off circulation?" Aurel would be surprised to hear it was; he'd done this so many times he could probably do it in his sleep and still hit the sweet spot between too tight and too loose, but - again - first time for everything.

"No... not if I don't move."

"Good. Then don't move."

He turned toward the living area and the tall dresser he'd filled with all of Aurel's fancy clothes as soon as the shipping from Earth caught them up. The top drawer held what he needed, and when he returned to Karl, suspenders and scarf in hand, the hacker's eyes went wide.

"Problem?"

"Uh. I guess not?"

"Would you be more comfortable on the bed? I'm sure I could improvise something."

_Not that I'd move you at this point, but it sounded like a nice offer, right?_

"No... no, I'm fine."

_You're agonizingly hard, is what you are. Get used to it._

Aurel used the suspenders to wrap a human leg to a chair leg on both sides, and securely blindfolded the man to boot. Karl made the smallest sound when the ascot went over his face. To anyone else, he might have sounded stoic, but Aurel had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud at him.

 _ **Not a fucking spy**. Also, he either _somehow_ verified who I am, or he's the biggest fucking idiot on the entire Citadel, ending up here, nearly helpless, without a damn safeword, or the knowledge that I'd even_ listen _to a damn safeword._

Aurel stood up and used a touch of biotic power to shove Karl and his chair back against the refrigerator, being careful not to catch his bound hands in the gap. A terrified gasp made him sigh. 

_SO not a fucking spy. Fine, reassurance first._

He went back to his knees and set his mouth to work again, swallowing Karl's penis expertly, moving his jaw back and forth quite slowly, listening to the creaks and groans of the chair as much as the creaks and groans of the man. Aurel prided himself on being able to give incredible head when the situation called for it... and to know _exactly_ when to stop when he wanted something.

Karl was gasping and moaning and shifting in the chair. Aurel worked his tongue more and more slowly until, finally, the hacker gasped out "AUREL... **please**!"

_There it is._

The biotic rocked back on his heels, wiped his mouth off, and then _smacked_ Karl on one of his beefy thighs. The bound man tried to jump right off the chair, but obviously didn't get very far.

"Please, huh? I have a... _better_ idea. We're going to play Twenty Questions. If I _like_ your answers, you'll get something nice... a nudge, a stroke, maybe even another lick. If I _don't_ like your answers, well..." Aurel paused for effect, "you could end up significantly worse off than you are now. But let's continue with the notion that you're going to tell me everything I want to know, and that we'll get to finish this in a more... _connubial_ manner."

If Aurel still had any illusions as to whether or not Karl had been hired to do this, he would have reconsidered in that moment. The hacker's face drained of color under the blindfold, his lips slackened with shock, and his entire body tensed up.

_**Not**. a. spy._

"I'm going to go out on a limb - you're new to this. _No one_ bothered to tell you I'm NOT new to this. But you've either confirmed I do _actually_ work for the Alliance, or you're the _stupidest_ shit on the Citadel, to come to my room and let me tie you up. So... _who_ confirmed my identity? _Who_ told you to follow me?"

Silence.

"Oh... honey. Just... **don't**. _Seriously_. Bailey did NOT put you into this position so that I could beat the crap out of you... but I _will_ , if I have to. If that's what it takes to assure myself you're not an incredibly good actor working for Cerberus."

"CERBERUS? No! I'm... I'm C-Sec! I AM."

"And Bailey?"

Karl's mouth quivered slightly. "He's not with Cerberus either! I mean, at least- Not that **I** know! And... he _never_ said 'seduce my new secretary.' He just wanted me to keep an eye on you." Under the scarf across his face, Karl began to flush red. "I was the one who chose, uh, _how_ I'd keep an eye on you." He tried to shift on the chair but only his hips moved.

"Then... I got curious about what was going on, you know. Two Alliance agents sent to investigate C-Sec isn't something that happens every day. At least, not that I've known about before. But... I work for Bailey."

Aurel rocked forward on his knees, pulled up Karl's shirt, and placed his lips on the smooth skin of the hacker's stomach, swirling his tongue up down, dipping under the waistband. The man in the chair groaned and struggled as his cock hardened again. "Aurel... I can't- I mean, if you- this is- I don't-"

"Shhhhh. As long as you're not working for Cerberus or the Reapers, this will eventually end well. I can forgive a small betrayal to Bailey." Aurel bent further, and resumed sucking Karl's cock, insistently, working him up to that point where his hips were jerking in the chair, and he was about to-

The biotic withdrew again.

The bound man let out a small scream and began to pull against the tie on his wrists; he hissed in pain as the silk cut into his flesh.

"I _highly_ recommend you not do that." Aurel spit into his right hand and reached out to stroke the hacker in slow motion. Whimpers filled the air.

"A few more questions. You said Bailey didn't order you to sleep with me. So why did you? And does he not care that you _are_ sleeping with me... or doesn't he know? Does he not care that you've been hacking his security system for me, or doesn't he know _that_? What does he know about my coworker? How much have you told him about why we're actually here?"

"AUREL!" Karl was biting his lip and obviously trying not to beg again. "Look, _please_ just untie me and let me use the bathroom. I'll tell you anything you want to know! But this- this is just-"

"Tell me _now_ , Karl. You led me on, lied to me, reported everything I told you in confidence, and followed me all over the Citadel. You've earned this, and _more_. But if you answer me - truthfully and completely - I'll reward you. You **won't** get that offer from _Alenko_ , I can promise you that."

Karl had gone pale again as the biotic rattled off a list of his sins. He swallowed with some difficulty and whispered "I don't think Bailey knows we're sleeping together. He knows I'm getting you documents. He knew Alenko was with SpecOps before his promotion, and assumed he might be here to help you with something, but he doesn't know _what_. And since **I** don't know exactly why you're here, how could I tell **him**? I just told him what YOU told ME - that you were sent here by the Alliance to investigate corruption on the Citadel. I SWEAR that's all. I _swear_..."

"Shhhhhh."

Aurel leaned forward and finished what he'd started.

_**Fuck**. Kaiden is going to flip his WIG._

\--

Aurel perfunctorily went from swallowing to untying. He told himself to ignore the wet patches of shed tears under the ascot. To pay attention to them might mean acknowledging the small bit of guilt that lingered, just under the satisfaction of ferreting out Karl's betrayal.

_Had to be done. Sucks that this might end our affair, but Kaidan was right - it shouldn't have begun in the first place._

He massaged Karl's legs and arms briskly, waiting to see when the hacker would have the courage to pull off the blindfold. Probably once he was done crying.

_You could do the SMALLEST bit of aftercare, Tom. You've been in his position before, and it's damn scary the first time. Sure, maybe he deserved it for inexpertly spying on a spy, but that doesn't change how much you freaked him out._

"Here's what's going to happen now. I'll forgive you for betraying me, even though my colleague is going to beat me into emotional scrap metal once he finds out. I trusted you, I blew my cover, I'll take the heat. The ball's in your court as to whether or not you'll forgive me for the surprise bondage and torturing the crap out of you. If it means anything, I believe everything you told me. And, if that makes me an idiot, well... I guess I'll own that, too."

There was a pause in which Karl sucked in a slow, deep breath, and then pulled off the blindfold. His eyes were a bit red, and Aurel gritted his teeth against another apology.

"I've... never had someone do that to me before."

"I gathered that."

 _APOLOGIZE, asshole. You've had your desire used against you before. He's **vulnerable**. FUCK. No. _ Can't _apologize. This is SpecOps stuff, and he_ knowingly _got in the middle of it._

"Look, if you were going to... do this sort of sexual role-play, this isn't the way it should have been the first time. You don't know enough about me to have trusted me like this. And I highly recommend you NOT end up in a position like this with someone else until you know them a _lot_ better than you know me."

Karl (somewhat bravely, Aurel thought) met his eyes. "You told me you're Alliance. You're military. You obviously ARE close to Major Alenko, and _he_ trusts you. So why wouldn't I?"

_Oh, Christ. Oh fucking hell. Tell him... or not? FUCK. In for a penny..._

"Karl... I'm Black Ops. I've assassinated three people and killed two others in the past year alone. We're not even going to discuss what I did _before_ Alenko recruited me for his unit. Get it?"

The hacker's eyes had gone wide, and his glance flicked down Aurel's slender body. "You... wait. So you... were _recruited_ by Alenko? To work in... _his_ unit? **Psi** Ops?"

Aurel blinked and then slowly closed his eyes.

_I am a complete **fucking** idiot. I evidently should just let Kaidan beat the crap out of me later._

He sighed. Opened his eyes. Walked away, into the living room... and Pulled Karl out of his chair, dragging him gently forward until he was less than a meter away, where he released him. The younger man collapsed onto the floor as his legs gave out, and a still-glowing Aurel crouched down next to him... not too close, in case the muscular man decided to take a swing after all.

"Yes, Alenko recruited me. I'm Psionics division of SpecOps too. NOW you know the stuff about me that you probably should know about someone before you let them tie you up."

Karl looked at him wonderingly. "You... that didn't even phase you, did it? I mean... All that play-acting, tying me down, it was all bullshit. You could have just... _biotically_ tossed me around at any point."

Aurel sighed loudly. "Yeah, well, _sure_. But it lacks artistry. And..." he paused, wondering if the admission was crossing yet _another_ line, and decided he was already in so much trouble, what did it matter? "I didn't want to actually hurt you if I didn't have to. I guess I was hoping I'd be able to get to the truth without it."

Karl let his head fall forward. When he raised his face, Aurel fancied there was an odd sort of acceptance in his gaze. "I shouldn't have told Bailey what you told me - I get that. But my loyalty was to him first."

Aurel narrowed his eyes. "And now?"

Karl bit his lip, clearly considering. "What... what do you think he did?"

_Oh no... You've already gotten me to disclose I'm a biotic, and that I still care about you. No more rope. So to speak._

"I'm not going to tell you that. You already have something to report back to Bailey: I'm a biotic, and Alenko and I both work for PsiOps. Of course, if Bailey was actually _friendly_ with the Asari Consulate, if he actually bothered to personally answer any of their fucking emails once in a while, they could have told him I was a biotic _weeks_ ago. I trained on Thessia, one of the few humans who have, and two of the Councilor's attaches _know_ me. Or... of me."

Karl's eyes widened again. "So you're... I mean. Jesus." He passed a hand over his face, and Aurel realized he was trying to wipe his eyes and nose without being caught. He offered the ascot.

"Here, use this. It's not a great color on me anyhow."

Karl snorted, but took the scarf. He scrubbed at his eyes and nose. "You really are a spy."

"I really am. And you really _aren't_."

"No! GOD, no!"

"I had to ask. And I'm fairly sure I believe you. And Shepard was willing to vouch for Bailey being one of the good guys." Aurel paused.

_In for a penny..._

"What is your _honest_ opinion of Bailey? Now that you know I'm basically here to figure out if he lives or dies."

Karl blanched again. His mouth fell open. Then he gathered himself, and said "He IS a good guy. I mean, he's not _perfect_ , but who is? I think he runs this place as well as can be expected, with all the Council drama, hysteria over the Collectors, Shepard's recent actions, the Batarians splintering into terror cells and launching random attacks, Cerberus trying to gain a foothold constantly..."

Aurel, trying to mask his interest, casually interjected "So that stuff has been impacting the Citadel right along?"

Karl, however, must have heard something in his voice, because he stuttered to a stop. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger, almost... insistent.

"I think you and Alenko should confront Bailey. I'll pull all the records to prep you, but I _really_ think you're on the same side, and you're wasting a lot of time trying to figure out... _whatever it is_ you're trying to figure out about Executor Pallin, alone."

Aurel let both his brows arch in shock. "You understand that he _killed_ Pallin, right? I mean... You weren't working for Bailey at the time, but you were still with C-Sec."

Karl bit his lip again. "Yeah, I know. And-" his brows furrowed as he thought it through, "it _was_ all a bit weird. From what I saw in the records I pulled, everyone who knew Pallin was shocked he'd participate in anything corrupt." His eyes suddenly locked on Aurel's " _That's_ why you're here, isn't it? To figure out if _Pallin_ was set up by Cerberus." His eyes rounded and his voice fell to a whisper. "Or maybe if he was _indoctrinated_."

Aurel closed his eyes again, in defeat.

_God damn amateur sleuth hackers and their fucking histrionic conspiracy theories that just happen to be right on the fucking money. Although **I'm** the one who mentioned the Reapers..._

"I'm _right_... aren't I?"

Aurel heaved a sigh from his very toes, glancing at Karl. "I'll take meeting with Bailey under advisement... **if** you keep your fucking mouth shut and don't tell him ANYTHING you learned today, get me the documents you promised - tonight - and let me make up my own damn mind."

The hacker swallowed, thinking. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his lips hovering for a second before they finally descended on Aurel's cheek. "I can do that."

_Christ on a cracker. Don't actually fall in love with me, Karl. I'm... not a good person._

\--

Aurel forced himself to eat. Then, he paced. He composed two different messages to send to Alenko: one in which he apologized for his errors in judgment and explained that he couldn't proceed with the investigation, and one in which he urged the older biotic to come with him in the morning to meet with Owen Bailey. Only the latter was tagged "Urgent." The documents - if he ever got them - would determine which message was sent.

Karl had been gone almost an hour by the time Aurel's omni-tool download indicator began to flicker. The massive fileset took almost twenty minutes to completely resolve.

He began to read.

\--

 _I dug for **two weeks** on my own and never came up with_ half _of this crap. I mean, I knew Bailey was rough around the edges and occasionally skirted his own laws, but to have this much proof in my hands is huge._

Aurel began pacing again. It was 05:13 CST. Not even midnight MST. He could message Anderson, send him the summary... go _around_ Alenko. Then, if this endeavor blew up in his face, Kaidan was clearly blameless.

 _What the fuck. I've NEVER taken a risk like this_ without _Alenko. I'd be fucking LOST. But... this is MY mess. Anderson needs to know that._

He sat down and composed another email, a short one, to the Admiral, and sent it immediately. Then he pressed 'send' on his 'Urgent' IM to Kaidan. He showered, dressed, and left for the Presidium.

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 30.06.2186. 23:17 MST  
Subject: My mess  
Message: Things came to a head here rather abruptly. I received a great deal of new intel on Commander Bailey, and have determined it is _extremely_ unlikely he is (or ever was) working for Cerberus. I arrived at this conclusion independent of Major Kaidan Alenko's input, though I will be asking him for assistance in confronting the Commander about what happened with Pallin later today (or tomorrow, by your reckoning). Will update you as soon as I have more information. I have attached a summary of the evidence supporting my decision regarding Commander Bailey.**

**~TomTom**

**{attachment: Crap_Bailey_Has_Done_That_Is_Questionable_Not_Treasonous.xdoc}**

\--

The older biotic was still in pajama bottoms: sleepy, rumpled, and heart-breakingly handsome, but Aurel tried his hardest to ignore all of that as he slid into the apartment.

"Did you get my message?"

Kaidan yawned, the kind of long, infectious yawn that reminded Aurel he himself hadn't slept. "Yeah. But I was still trying to convince myself you were joking. Coffee?"

Aurel nodded, and threw himself on Kaidan's couch. He loved this particular piece of furniture, and had often wondered if there was a way to get Alenko to trade couches... or whole apartments.

 _You know what would have been nice? If they'd made_ me _the diplomat and_ Kaidan _the C-Sec spy. I would have cleaned _UP_. Not made an unholy mess by seducing a hacker who looked like my unrequited crush, and who turned out to be a decent human being and wanted ME to be a decent human being, too. That's not how this works. That's not how ANY of this works..._

"I'm not joking. I may WISH I was. But I'm not." Aurel sat up as Kaidan came around the couch and set a French press down on his coffee table.

_Christ, aren't we fancy now?_

"Really, Kaidan? A fucking _French press?_ "

Alenko tsked at him as he forced the plunger down. "Language. Could we go _one_ day without a bunch of f-bombs? Just one?"

Aurel snorted in amusement. "Absolutely. Sure. Just... remember _you're_ the one who requested that once you hear the debrief."

\--

Kaidan only dropped four f-bombs that morning.

_Not so many, really. Given everything._

He also read the email Aurel has sent to Anderson, told him he was a ninny, interrogated the younger biotic on _every_ aspect of Bailey's character, as reflected in the summary document, and finally - FINALLY - grudged that he _might_ be willing to meet with him, completely blow their covers, and team up.

Aurel waited on the sofa impatiently while his mentor showered and dressed, fighting the urge to peak into the bathroom once (or twice) for old times' sake.

Kaidan grabbed food out of his fridge, and ate as they walked down to the elevators, rode up a floor to the Embassy.

They'd barely left the lift when Alenko took Aurel's arm and steered him off to the side, to another spot the cameras didn't cover. "One thing," he advised in a harsh whisper, "It would simplify matters if Udina didn't find out about this. I wasn't actually given to him as a fucking present; he's under suspicion as well. Granted, I haven't finished the financials, but nothing you've forwarded has even come close to proving whether or not _Udina_ knew the information on Pallin was false, planted, or _both_. Still, something about him has never felt quite right, and if we're going to pin our hopes on Bailey not being truly corrupt, we need to wait on clearing Udina." Kaidan let go of his subordinate's arm. "His office is right across from Bailey's. If for some reason he sees us, I'm going to have to peel off and deal with him. You'll keep going."

_**Five** f-bombs._

"OK."

\--

Thankfully, Udina's door was closed when they entered the corridor. And Bailey was sitting at his desk, looking for all the world like he expected them. He hit a button on his omni-tool and instructed Aurel's coworker, Greenland, to block out an hour for this meeting, and that he didn't want to be interrupted. When he lifted his head, the pale eyebrows were all knotted up in annoyance.

"Now... what _actually_ brought you two Alliance idiots to the Citadel?"

\--

It turned out Bailey wasn't much of a hacker himself, but once they'd woken up Karl and commandeered another workstation, four sets of eyes combing through the entirety (even password-protected _Consulate_ camera footage) of the Citadel's archives went considerably faster.

Their meeting stretched on; Owen's schedule inexorably tangled up behind it.

When Aurel pointed out that _someone_ needed to stop and deal with the diplomats' problems that were getting punted, Bailey snorted loudly. "Let 'em wait. This is more important. It's been bothering me for months. Never made sense that a respected Turian official would betray his commission after years on the job. The fact that he wouldn't back down and talk to me, that he'd attack me and forced me to shoot him, was incomprehensible. It was fairly obvious he'd been set up, but I could never discover by _whom_. Knowing Cerberus was operating on the station during the handover from Anderson solves one riddle, but asks a dozen more."

Aurel wondered if Kaidan knew what he was doing in sharing that bit of classified intel with Bailey, but - hey - it made everything easier once he did. Bailey decisively chopped out a time period from the vid archives in 2186 and partitioned it four ways. "Anyone in that corridor outside the Executor's office; either end: it connects up to C-Sec from both sides. There's a damn blank spot in the camera coverage that Pallin should have fixed. And his home: there's also only one way in or out of his apartment building, but at least fifty families lived there. So _that_ footage will be fun to comb through."

Karl was the one who suggested a facial recognition program, the use of which at least narrowed down the amount of video in and out of the corridor outside the Executor's office. Kaidan and Aurel kept checking the slow old-fashioned way and had barely cleared two weeks of vid before the hacker let out a loud "SHIT."

"What?" Everyone looked up and over at Karl.

The muscular man juggled two datapads and walked to Aurel's side. "Look at this - that's an Asari Commando, or I'll eat my shorts." His met Aurel's eyes and blushed a deep red. "Uh, I mean... I'd be shocked if you told me that wasn't a commando."

Kaidan snorted loudly and took one of the datapads from the hacker, allowing the video to play forward and then reversing it carefully. "Maybe. I mean... it's incredibly hard to tell from manner of dress alone, but she's not anyone I've met in the diplomatic corps."

Aurel was trying to hide his consternation. The woman looked eerily familiar. "Can we get an ID?" he asked Karl.

The hacker made a low noise. "I can try. Facial rec at the entry ports _really_ needs to be tightened, but we've known that forever. The DNA scans are good, but there are ways to evade them if you're clever." Bailey looked up at that, and made an annoyed sound.

"Maybe. But less now than in '85. Even in '85 we got Shepard's DNA on file and matched it up. We catch more of them than you realize, boy-o, since we started collecting vid and DNA in the restaurants and bars."

Aurel and Kaidan looked at each other. This was news to them.

Aurel cleared his throat "Your databases contain matches from leisure activities? So... even if people think they've evaded the immigration scans..."

"They get caught when they go to eat. Yep." Bailey sounded a bit smug about it. "It's easier to let the dedicated ones think they're slipping the net, and grab them when they go for food." He stopped flashing through vid screens to arch a brow at the biotic operatives. "Don't mind if you tell the Alliance about it, but I'd rather that information didn't get out to the general public... if you take my meaning."

Both biotics nodded.

"GOTCHA!" Karl suddenly yelled. Aurel immediately bent his face over the young man's datapad. And there - in a close-up still photograph - she was. He swallowed.

_Damn it all to hell..._

"She worked for Benezia." Aurel's voice was low. "You'll probably be able to trace her travels through the Asari Consulate." He sighed. "How many times was she in and out of Pallin's office?"

"Just the once," Karel said. "But the search already has three hits of her going into his apartment building."

Kaidan peered over Aurel's shoulder. "Marin T'Jeta? I'm pretty sure she's on your list of leads from Pallin's calendar, Aurel," Kaidan mused. "We just hadn't gotten to her yet."

Aurel dropped his head, caught in a memory. This day hadn't started out very promising, but now? Now it was absolute **shit**. "That's an alias." He sighed. "Her name is Faytra T'Esti. I haven't heard from her in almost seven years."

He'd tried to control his emotion, but something in his voice evidently alerted Kaidan that all was _not_ well. "Aurel... what?"

The blond biotic sighed. _In for a penny..._

"I met her when I was on Thessia, training with Benezia. I was approached to... father children. I said 'no', but they eventually wore me down... all their talk about genetic perfection and blue eyes." He glanced down at the candid shot on Karl's datapad again, remembering a very different woman... one _without_ the hard expression and a somewhat obvious firearm hidden under her jacket.

Kaidan's mouth had fallen open. It was Bailey's gruff voice that finally broke the silence.

"So... this Asari is the mother of your daughter?"

Karl and Kaidan both winced, but Aurel just shrugged.

"One of them."

\--

**From: Armando-Owen Bailey (a_owen_bailey@c-sec.net)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Cc: (aurel_lehmann@c-sec.net), (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil), (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 02.07.2186. 15:23 CST  
Subject: do you rain trouble wherever you go? (was Re: A Likely Story!)  
Message: I'm glad to know you think I'm 'good people' Shepard, but in the future, if the Alliance wants to investigate me I'd appreciate just being pulled into a back room and having the information beaten out of me. These two SpecOps agents have caused a substantial amount of chaos on my station in the last few weeks, sleeping their way around the Consulates.**

**Attached are some photos of a piece of tech we located in the sequestered quarters of former C-Sec Executor Venari Pallin. I'd say that it was lucky the Turian government dictated his apartment (and all his belongings) remain locked up until such time as his next of kin could recover everything (and then no one ever came), except I no longer believe in 'luck'.**

**Please tell me if this hideous thing is Collector and/or Reaper-based, and, if so, what in _blazes_ I should do with it.**

**~Owen Bailey.**

**PS: I'm damn sorry about what happened with the trial, Shepard. You were robbed of your commission, and the galaxy is worse off for it.**

**{attachment: Weird_ass_glowing_thingie_1.pic}**  
**{attachment: Weird_ass_glowing_thingie_2.pic}**  
**{attachment: Weird_ass_glowing_thingie_3.pic}**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i won't lie. i've been debating whether or not to write this glimpse into Tom since The Null Room, and i finally just decided to put it out there. i have a redemptive arc in mind for him, but 'work in progress', so who knows if he'll get there. this is who he is. you might hate his guts, find him interesting, find him boring, find him non-canon and ridiculous; i'm interested in any reaction.
> 
> general disclaimers: this is not me advocating abuse. my $0.02: don't play without safewords, don't play with people you don't know well, and don't play with assassins, especially if you've been lying your ass off to them.
> 
> i also wanted to lay some groundwork for Udina's ultimate betrayal (uh, i hope that's not a spoiler!) because it always sort of felt... _forced_ to me. no matter how much you don't like the guy (did ANY of us actually like him?) he IS a respected Alliance official with a ton of experience in diplomacy. he's a weasel, but he's a loyal weasel for a long time. i feel like having Kaidan vent his vague suspicion here makes the inevitable confrontation and Kaidan's decision to shoot him a bit more realistic.
> 
> next up: Vega.


	10. Crew Deck: The Mess Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y: "Away put your weapon, I mean you no harm. I am wondering, why are you here?"  
> LS: "I'm looking for someone."  
> Y: "Looking? _Found_ someone you have, I would say, mm?"  
> LS: "Riiight."  
> Y: "Help you I can, yes, mm."  
> LS: "I don't think so. I'm looking for a great warrior."  
> Y: "Oh... great warrior. Wars not make one great.... ohhhhh"  
> LS: "Put that down. Now will you- HEY! That's my dinner!"  
> Y: "How you get so big, eating food of this kind?"  
> LS: "Listen, friend, we didn't mean to land in that puddle, and if we could get our ship out, we would, but we can't, so-"  
> Y: "Awww, you can not get your ship out."  
> LS: "Hey! Get out of there!"  
> Y: "Awwww. NO! Ohhhh..."  
> LS: "Hey, you could have broken this! Don't do _that_... awwww, you're makin' a _mess_..."
> 
> ~ Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back 
> 
> warning: long chapter (with a cliff) ahead. if i lost you on the Citadel because you just could care less about Kaidan, Tom, Karl, and Bailey, i understand. you will probably like this chapter better.

James read Garrus' email that Tuesday morning and tried _really hard_ to _not_ be annoyed about being barred from the roof. With everything else going on, it seemed like such a _puta_ thing to be pissed off about, but-

-some part of him **couldn't** let it go.

 _ **I**_ did _start the 'roof awkwardness'. **I** tracked her down, saw her showering, said... a few things... about what she should do in that shower that might have been taken as... _ mildly _provocative. And I did watch. I **get** it. Then I did, well,_ grab _her the night of the attack, after she kissed me. **But** , Mierda! I've behaved myself for DAYS now. I made it_ clear _we could just hang out..._

James winced as his conscience pricked him.

 _Yeah, I kept teasing her on Sunday. But **she** started it, jabbing me about Osorio's daughter. Still, I_ fell asleep. _Like a dork, maybe, but I did NOT make a move. We just took a nap together, on a blanket, in the park. It was like we were in the Null room again, only without the damn nightmares. It was - what did she call it? -_ comforting. _It was_ comfortable _. **And** I let her take almost the entire cake home. What the hell more does she WANT?_

It aggravated James beyond words that she hadn't responded to _any_ of his messages yesterday, even after Vakarian left. And when he'd met up with her at the school this morning to catch the shuttle, she'd pretty much dismissed his concern, saying 'I was fine, James. I spent the day shopping, and a friend came by in the afternoon.'

 _'A **friend** '. Not like it was_ Garrus Vakarian, _who'd been her shipmate before AND after her death, and was supposed to be one of the best Turian sharpshooters alive. Not, like, ANYONE I'D WANT TO MEET._

And when he'd informed her that he really could have used her insight on the SR-2 tear-out, she'd shrugged and said they could 'talk about it tomorrow at dinner.'

_As if I was a chore to cross off her goddam list. As if I didn't open up a bulkhead yesterday and short out the power to the old Armory, wondering the entire time if EDI was laughing at me, and suspecting she **was** , and WHY CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE DINNER AND CHAT ABOUT WORK LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE?_

James threw the datapad he was holding down to the floor in frustration, and immediately felt childish. He'd been reading a spec manual on the old SR-1... as if the blueprints of the _old_ ship could somehow inform his work on the new one. The fact of the matter was that the person who could _actually_ give him accurate information on the SR-2 had gone downtown to finish out her testimony, and have lunch with Robert Osorio before the Major testified. Vega had told her he'd be heading downtown himself for the ceremony, offered go in early, and eat with them...

_Me dijo que no era bienvenido._

Vega admitted that it hurt to be excluded. That was the actual problem. It _hurt_ that she was avoiding him. He felt like he'd been doing backflips for almost two weeks to try to regain her attention, but nothing worked for long. Frequently he wanted to _punch something_ , and none of this was his _fault_ , dammit.

Except... he knew it was at least partly his fault.

He strongly suspected that the reason they couldn't 'sit down and have a nice dinner' was because they still wanted to tear each others' clothes off when they were alone. And that the reason they couldn't 'chat about work like normal people' was because, well, the Alliance was about to fire her.

'Try not to be a brat about it,' Liara had advised.

_I'm trying, T'Soni. I'm REALLY trying._

\--

**VEGA: hey  
_SHEP: hey_  
VEGA: can you chat?  
_SHEP: for a bit. need to go up and meet Karin in 20_  
VEGA: who?  
_SHEP: Dr. Karin Chakwas. She's testifying tomorrow._  
VEGA: she's coming in tonight?  
_SHEP: yeah. she's staying in the Ibarras' old apartment_  
VEGA: ah. how did today go?  
_SHEP: crappy, as expected. at least it's over. i was happy they let me come back for the ceremony, though_  
VEGA: between you and me, i was a little surprised to be included  
_SHEP: why? the bar fight?_  
VEGA: and telling a couple of people where they could stick their questions during my testimony - a couple of those Generals were probably pissed off they had to watch me get a medal  
_SHEP: you deserved it, though_  
VEGA: *Osorio* deserved it  
_SHEP: you *both* did. Osorio looked wonderful. was good to catch up_  
VEGA: i'm glad you got some time with him  
_SHEP: are you still upset i didn't invite you to lunch?_  
VEGA: if i said i was, you'd tell me i was being a child, right?  
_SHEP: no, i'd say that i was sorry but it was good to chat with him privately_  
VEGA: why?  
VEGA: what did he say?  
_SHEP: we talked about the future. he told me they cleared him for duty. he's officially back on the team_  
VEGA: huh  
VEGA: do you know why?  
_SHEP: sort of_  
VEGA: why?  
_SHEP: i can't talk about it yet_  
VEGA: what?  
VEGA: why not?  
_SHEP: i don't think he was supposed to tell me until the trial is over, but he knew i was upset_  
VEGA: oh  
VEGA: i don't know what to say  
_SHEP: it's fine. nothing you can do. nothing to be done. we knew that_  
VEGA: but that doesn't make it fine  
_SHEP: i have to go_  
_SHEP: oh i'm pretty sure Karin is also staying over tomorrow so dinner will be three of us. my place?_  
VEGA: that would be nice  
_SHEP: i thought i'd get tapas. and Serrice Ice Brandy, if i can find it_  
VEGA: why Serrice brandy? that stuff is insanely expensive  
_SHEP: it's her favorite. plus, i still have half the cake left, and i thought it would go well_  
VEGA: you didn't eat the rest of the Tres Leches?  
_SHEP: no. haven't been hungry_  
VEGA: have you been eating at all!?  
_SHEP: sort of_  
VEGA: SHEPARD  
_SHEP: it's fine. i gotta go. dinner at 6 tomorrow_  
VEGA: EAT SOMETHING  
**

\--

James was surprised and disturbed in equal measure. He struggled with feeling pleasure at being invited to dinner while remaining concerned that she was obviously upset. And not eating.

_Granted emotions don't come through perfectly in IMs, but damn. She sounds... defeated._

He toyed with the idea of going up there, knocking on her door, and informing Dr. Chakwas that the Commander wasn't eating again. In the end, he realized Eliza would almost certainly make him pay dearly for it if he did.

_But I wish I had Chakwas' message ID._

Vega ended up messaging with Cortez for almost a half hour, and then sending off a copy of the relevant portions of their conversation in an email to Joker. While Moreau continued as a fixture on board the dry-dock Normandy, Vega had heard over the weekend the Defense Council had unofficially booted the pilot as well. He wouldn't be flying anything for the military (let alone the SR-2) again, any time soon.

 _Which, given what Shepard testified about the trip out to - and_ back from _\- the Collector homeworld, is criminal. Mierda! This is all so stupid._

He'd drafted a rough plan to transfer the old lab and tech equipment from the starboard side into the erstwhile Armory, eventually giving the ship back its old lab. Now that most of the high-tech Armory modification panels had been extracted and moved down to the Shuttle Bay, there was room to begin hooking the other equipment up.

_Well... when Main Level Port side has power restored..._

\--

James ultimately decided it would be hokey to show up for dinner with flowers, no matter how depressed Shepard sounded, but food had always seemed to help her mood. Once she told him she'd already ordered dinner, he called down to the take-out place and asked them if his cousin had ordered a cookie tray to go with the _tapas_. They told him she hadn't, so he ran down to pick up two dozen before they sold out for the day.

_Let's hope the maxim 'we don't get pissed at people who bring us cookies' still holds true._

He ended up going for a long run. He'd been doing his daily workouts fairly consistently, but this was the first time in weeks he'd ended up with a day off where there was, literally, nothing to do but wait. Shepard had shuttled off to Headquarters with Chakwas early that morning. He'd left his door ajar for the express purpose of catching them before they left, which... had felt a bit _stalkerish_ when he did it, but what the fuck. He'd been dressed and ready and offered to go with them.

"Anderson is meeting us at the checkpoint," Eliza had tossed off, "We're fine. And I already ordered dinner, so that's all set." Then they just continued skipping down the stairs as if... as if the walls weren't closing in.

So he ran through Eastside, up the river, and back through the park, alone with his thoughts. And he mourned the loss of something that he wasn't even sure he'd ever actually had.

\--

"How have you enjoyed your time getting to know our Eliza, eh, James?" Karin Chakwas was lovely, charming, and just the slightest bit intimidating. Vega had the unnerving feeling that she'd dissected him and figured out he'd rather be alone with Shepard.

"Interesting," he replied. It was a safe answer. "I never know where I am from day to day, but that keeps it from getting boring."

_At least, I HOPE that was a safe answer. Dios._

Shepard arched a brow at him and reached for another _tapas_. She'd ordered some with chicken and pork in addition to the ones with ground seitan and beans, and he wished he'd told her at some point that he _really_ didn't mind eating vegetarian with her once in a while. But - as Chakwas was scarfing down the miniature pork _carnitas_ \- perhaps she'd ordered with both of them in mind.

"James only loves me for my encyclopedic knowledge of the SR-2," Shepard laughed, as Chakwas' head swiveled back to look at her. "He's asking all those questions about the _Normandy_ because he's part of the retrofit team... tearing apart my baby as we speak."

"Hey," Vega interjected, "I'm trying to save as much as I can. Go yell at the crazy diplomatic corps people if you want to complain to someone. They were just going to toss all the lab equipment into the cargo bay."

" _Mordin's_ equipment?" the doctor inquired, sounding a bit... shocked. "Some of that technology is irreplaceable. They couldn't be that stupid."

"They're not scientists, Doctor," James replied sardonically. "It's just in the way." He grinned. "Thing is: Cortez didn't want it all jammed into the Shuttle Bay either. Since he's currently the ranking officer on board, installing the... _Important Table_ \- or whatever the hell it is they're hoping to bring in - will have to wait until I shift the lab."

Karin Chakwas expelled a thoroughly-disgusted snort. "That lab equipment saved nearly every human colony from being harvested by the Collectors. It deserves to be re-installed _somewhere_ , if not in the _Normandy_."

James ignored the flash of Fehl Prime-related discomfort the doctor's words gave him, concentrating instead on the changes being made to the ship. "It'll get hooked up again. I imagine once the War Room, Armory, and Engineering retrofits are complete, and once the QEC is up and working, Traynor and a couple science techs will be put on it."

Chakwas sighed worriedly. "I hope they were smart enough to leave Med Bay alone." She frowned. "It's short-sighted of them, but I suppose that's always the way of things. They're getting her ready for the fighting first."

Shepard reached out and put a hand on the doctor's arm. "It was also the way on the SR-1. Maybe we got too used to the creature comforts of the SR-2 under Cerberus. I just hope they're treating her with respect." James glanced over at Shepard, and wondered if he was hearing things, or if there was an odd stress on her words.

Chakwas met Shepard's eyes and nodded solemnly. The two women reached for the still-closed bottle of Serrice brandy at the exact same moment and then broke into peals of laughter. James was utterly confused.

"You do it, Shepard," Karin chuckled. "Where are the glasses?"

"In the kitchen, on the counter. Next to dessert."

As the door swung shut behind Chakwas, James arched a brow at Eliza. "Is this about to become a private party, or can I stay?"

She frowned at him as she worked the wooden stopper out of the brandy bottle. "Of _course_ you can stay. I wouldn't kick you out in the middle of dessert."

_Tapas. Cake. Brandy. **Bed** , only ten meters away. Now... if only the doctor would get tired._

Chakwas came back out of the kitchen trying to juggle three snifters AND the cake plate. Shepard and Vega both jumped to their feet to help her, but she waved them off, sliding first the cake, and then the glasses, down onto the table. She picked up the open decanter and slowly poured a third of the bottle into each snifter, ignoring Eliza's protest with "Now, now... you were the one who told me that we should celebrate early and often, because reality on the 'morrow might not be as pleasant. Unfortunately, that definitely holds true tonight." The doctor raised her glass and locked eyes with Shepard. "A toast, to one of the bravest, truest friends - and best Commanders - I have ever had. No matter _what_ the Alliance decides to do tomorrow, you and I know the truth. You have saved the day over and over again, Shepard. And they do not deserve you."

Eliza's eyes filled with tears, and James saw her bite her lip when he murmured "Hear, hear," before he drank.

 _These people... who truly know her,_ have _truly known her for_ years _... they all think she's being drummed out of the service - not because of any lack of merit on her part - but in repudiation of Cerberus. They must have all testified to that under oath. So WHY is the Alliance being this pig-headed? Merely because many of them dropped what they were doing as soon as they heard she was alive and went to join her? Even though it meant serving under Cerberus?_

Shepard was cutting the cake. She slid a piece onto each of the spare plates on the table, and passed around clean forks. They all began to eat, and Chakwas made a small appreciative moaning sound that made Vega grin. "This is _wonderful_."

"James made it," Eliza said, smiling at him.

He felt himself flush and his body tightened. _Madre de Dios. It's ridiculous to get..._ worked up _...over a little bit of praise._

Eliza hadn't eaten more than a couple forkfuls of cake before she raised her glass. "To comrades - old, and new," she gestured first at Chakwas, and then Vega, with her snifter. "I would never have been able to endure losing my life, my ship, and my liberty," she glanced at James, "without you. Whatever comes..." Eliza inhaled slowly. "May we remain close, may we stay vigilant, and may we emerge victorious."

Karin replied "Aye," and drank, as James repeated what he'd said before. He and Shepard only sipped. Then the doctor and the biotic both glanced at him.

"Uhh. I'm not great at this sort of thing. My usual toast is 'Here's to us', or 'Let's go kick some ass,' so..."

Chakwas and Shepard both started laughing. "Works for me," the doctor replied, and drained her glass.

Vega was trying desperately not to _plot_ out what he'd do if he got a tipsy Shepard alone, but he also didn't drink all the alcohol that had been poured into his glass. Neither did Eliza.

_Don't read into it Be cool It's just a friendly drink Also the doctor doesn't appear to be moving..._

Chakwas finished her last bite of cake, put her fork down, and stretched. "That was lovely, but if I'm going to finish strong tomorrow, I need some sleep." She stood, waving off the Commander, who had risen to follow her across the hall. "No need, Shepard. I know the way, and you provided everything I could possibly want for a short stay. Relax, finish that amazing cake, and I'll see you both in the morning." As she turned her head past his field of view, James thought he saw her _wink_ at him.

 _Dios en el cielo_.

\--

"I..." Vega cleared his throat and tried again. "I think the moon is almost full tonight. Do you... want to take dessert up to the roof?"

_!Ah poco, idiota! **Why** can't you let the roof thing go?_

Eliza just looked at him. Finally, she sighed. "You _really_ can't let that go, can you?" She shifted in her chair, grabbed her snifter, and sipped. "Is it because I went up there with Garrus?"

Vega blinked. He found himself sipping his brandy, as well, and realized he was mirroring her. _Mierda._

"Maybe. Or maybe I can't stop thinking about what almost happened up there."

She snorted. "Us dying?"

Vega let his eyes close. _I could be wrong. ¡A la chingada! But you don't get anywhere if you don't ask._

He reopened his eyes and his gaze locked on her mouth. "No. The kissing. The touching. The... rest of it. Everything that _would_ have happened, if there hadn't been an deranged combat engineer living next door."

_Be HONEST with me. Is this just my delusion, or do you still feel it too?_

Shepard sighed, and took a slightly larger swallow of alcohol. "What happened to being concerned I'm in love with someone else and just using you?"

Vega's eyebrows arced in surprise. "What makes you think-"

Shepard cut him off. "Liara emailed _both_ of us back, you know."

James felt his cheeks heat up. "Oh."

"Yeah, **oh**."

He was quiet a minute. Then he raised his eyes to her face, and slowly said "Maybe... I realized my jealousy was ridiculous. That I didn't have a right to it. OR to an explanation. Maybe I decided..." He slid the edge of his chair, bringing his face a bit closer. "I'm OK if you use me."

Shepard was _staring_ at him. He could see a muscle tic jump to life in her throat. She licked her lips. It was probably an unconscious, nervous gesture, but that didn't matter to his groin.

_Por favor, Eliza... Deja de tomarme el pelo._

She swallowed, then seemed to remember she was holding the brandy glass, and took another drink. "Two weeks ago... so was I."

 _What?_ James clenched his jaw against shouting it.

Shepard shook her head. "Look, I haven't been eating or sleeping very well. I haven't had any alcohol for _months_ and I always forget how strong this stuff is. I'm closer to drunk than I'd want to admit to Chakwas." She sighed. "You... said something two weeks ago that was..." She shook her head again. "Well, it was right on the nose. I agree with what you said then; I _don't_ want to do something that either one of us immediately regrets."

Vega started in surprise. That night... was still so vivid, in his memories. T'Soni had arrived. Eliza had disappeared for hours, struggling to get a handle on her powers, while he laid in bed and worried about her. He'd been mostly asleep by the time she came home, and he'd drawn a gun on her, like a _loco pendejo_. She'd quite obviously been _pissed_ at him for drawing on her... and then because he'd put conditions on having sex. What she didn't know was how _very close_ he'd come to tossing his reservations out the window and seducing her anyway.

_I know it was the right choice. I don't think I could have looked at myself in the mirror the next day if I'd taken advantage of her being in the middle of... whatever Liara was doing to help her. But it was fucking hard to get to sleep that night, in more ways that one. And I had no idea she took what I said to heart._

He sighed. "I don't think either one of us wants to talk about that night right now. Couldn't we just go up to the roof, look at the moon, and chat like two functional adults for fifteen minutes? I won't even ask for a kiss goodnight, though I happen to believe anyone who brings you a dozen cookies should really get one."

As in the Null Room, he could see her trying _not_ to laugh, and how chagrined she was when she failed. "I'll have to let _Anderson_ know that." She laughed again, at the look on his face, then sighed. "Fine. Just for a few minutes."

"But you have to finish your damn cake."

Her eyebrows went up. "What? Why?"

He arched a brow back at her. "Because, after you basically tried to exhort it out of me, I made it for you, and I can't believe you haven't inhaled it yet. You barely touched the _tapas_ , and you've swallowed nearly a third of a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy. So bring two more of the tapas, the cake, and a bottle of water, and let's go."

\--

"Saw your email."

James had barely left the airlock when Joker spun his chair around to call out to him.

"OK." Vega took a couple steps onto the Bridge. "So?"

"I think it's good idea, moving the lab. Otherwise, the starboard team will probably end up trashing that equipment. Some of the stuff should go to Med Bay, though. I had Traynor stick little pieces of blue tape on those."

"You decided that?" James added, slyly, "Or EDI did?"

Joker rolled his eyes. "Actually, the _owner_ did. I managed to get a hold of him yesterday. I put _your_ proposal together with _his_ information and sent it to Traynor. She wasn't exactly thrilled to be pulled off the QEC for even a half hour, but she saw the need when I told her you'd be here today."

James smiled. It was actually damn nice to see the retrofit team (albeit reluctantly, at times) working as something of a unit. Finally. "Thanks, Joker. I'll go track down the dolly and move everything before I head to the new Armory."

"Wait." Joker searched fruitlessly around his workstation for over a minute, swearing under his breath.

James waited patiently, and finally asked "Can I help you?"

"Yes. No. I mean, the damn datapad is around here somewhere." Joker actually got out of his flight chair, and peered underneath his console. "You probably wouldn't fit under here, would you?" he muttered. James drew breath to retort, but held his tongue as the pilot carefully knelt down and finally crawled forward under the cockpit. "DAMMIT, HOW THE HELL..." filtered out from behind his chair. James started to get a little concerned.

"You OK, Joker?"

The pilot slowly crawled back out holding a datapad. "Yeah. I'm _peachy._ I thought I heard something fall a while back, but I was in the middle of chatting with your friend Cortez about setting up supply lines." He brushed off his hands, and tried to grab his flight chair and pull himself up without dropping the datapad. It wasn't going well, and Vega heard him swear again. "And _then_ Engineering - _shit!_ \- rang to ask me, to ask EDI, some _stupid_ question that Adams could have answered in his sleep, so I _really_ hope his transfer comes through this week-"

"Joker?"

Jeff stopped mid-babble. "What?" 

Vega rolled his eyes, and reached out a hand to help haul the pilot up. " _Why_ am I still standing here?"

"Oh, yeah." Joker settled into the seat and handed the datapad over. "I heard you were looking for a spec manual for the SR-2. There _isn't_ one, obviously, or if there _is_ , Cerberus has it. But I have this set of schematics. It's already not a hundred percent accurate, given some of the Engineering changes, but it's something. Take a look at it, and if you think it will help the rest of the team, feel free to distribute it to the list." A message popped up on the board; Moreau read it, then swiped it off. "Or, hey - go yell at Engineering to upload their copy; it's probably updated."

James blinked, thumbing through the padd. "This is the sort of info I've been looking for for over a week, Joker."

"Well, you'd have had it a week ago if I'd known. It never occurred to me that anyone outside Engineering would want it, so you can thank Shepard."

"I will. And thank _you_."

The pilot nodded and spun his chair around again. James also pivoted, had one foot out of the Bridge when he heard Joker call out "And hey - be careful when you unload all the non-MedBay equipment. Pretty dark on the port side with no power."

_Pendejo._

\--

Thursday passed excruciatingly slowly on the _Normandy_. Everyone who knew, and cared, was holding their breath to see what color smoke was going to come out of Headquarters. All of them knowing that it almost certainly wouldn't be good news, yet all them hoping to be wrong.

When James finally left, he actually felt a sense of accomplishment. Esteban was happily upgrading the basic panels he'd already tweaked with the newer tech Vega had yanked out of the old Armory. He'd moved all the lab equipment to its suggested locations. Since someone would eventually be detailed to fix the circuit damage he'd unwittingly caused, he left everything shoved against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

He'd finally finished the weapons count, entered it all into the new database, and placed orders for certain mods and weapons he felt the Armory lacked. Cortez was dubious he was going to get the stuff he wanted, since _many_ ships were establishing new supply lines and trying to get their weapons upgraded right now (just in case Shepard was right). But James basically lived by the motto that it was always better to ask, and possibly be disappointed, than to never ask and never get anywhere.

_You have to keep asking. You never know when the answer might change..._

\--

"So... that's it. To be clear, there's **no** way to win this?" To James, she didn't actually sound surprised, just resigned.

It was Friday morning. The shuttle ride in had been... somber. Anderson's mood, when he met them just inside the gate, pretty much said it all. But still they detoured to a less busy corner of the compound so that Shepard could vent her spleen in relative privacy.

"Shepard, this **is** a win. The alternative to this deal was them finding you guilty of treason and terrorism, and you going back to the tenement _if_ you were lucky, the brig if you weren't."

She rubbed her face. She looked so much like a sad child, Vega just wanted to hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her it was all going to be OK. He doubted either the sentiment or the action would be welcome just now.

"How is being tossed out a win?"

"You and I both knew this was the likely outcome, Eliza. At least - _technically_ \- you're being demoted and grounded, not tossed. Your service designation will change, but you get to keep your amp. You can use your abilities, like any other military contractor. You have your omni-tool, and limited access to the military databases." Anderson tried to pat her shoulder, but she jerked away.

James could have told Anderson that trying to touch her right now was a bad idea.

" _Officially_ , it's still _parole_ , though, right? The tracker stays? The babysitter comes with it?" Behind her, James could feel his himself frown at the dig.

_And if I needed confirmation as to where Garrus heard that term..._

Anderson glanced at James and then raised his brows at Shepard. "Least he's not afraid of you."

_Uhhhh, I'm not?_

She scoffed. "That's not necessarily a good thing."

Vega finally inserted himself into the conversation. "Hey." He closed the gap between himself and Shepard. "There is no way you can say I haven't treated you with respect. That won't change, no matter your military status." For Anderson's ears, _and_ because _now_ he was annoyed, he added "I have a duty, and I'll do it, no matter how _onerous_ it may be at times."

_Except, well, the roof stuff. None of that was particularly respectful. But since we're acting like that never happened..._

Eliza made a face at him. "Like I've ever ordered you around. Like you _take_ orders."

Anderson broke in, forestalling the fight. "Enough, children. You can keep yelling at each other after the verdict... if you still even want to. Shepard, before you disappear into the weekend, I want everything you can remember about every interaction with the Collectors that you may have missed in your testimony and previous logs. I want every strategy you can concoct, from what you know of our military readiness and their probable numbers. I want your contacts, all of them. Try not to waste today pouting."

Eliza blew a gasket. " **Like I ever-**

Vega couldn't prevent an amused snort, and so wasn't shocked when she turned around, ready to tear into him, too.

Admiral Anderson started walking toward the meeting hall. " _Everything_ , Shepard. Even if it doesn't seem particularly important. Let the Defense Committee wade through it."

Shepard fell into step behind him, clearly trying to bite down on her anger as she said "We'll see."

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Just do it, Liza. This isn't the death sentence you think it is, especially since you and I both know the Reapers are coming. Let's do everything we can to be ready." He stopped at the entrance door, shaking his head. "As if that were even possible."

\--

The brief hour in which the Defense Committee announced they were acquitting Elizabeth Shepard of 'treasonous activities', 'terrorist actions', and 'collusion with enemy forces', but convicting her of 'conduct unbecoming an officer' and demoting her to bureaucratic personnel, was as hideous and painful as Vega had expected it would be. And that was just _him_ ; he couldn't imagine what Eliza was going through.

Shepard stood before the small group of jurors, ignoring the full Defense Committee arrayed in risers around the room. She was silent, her face blank, not so much as a _flicker_ of her insane biotic power peeking out as all of her various offenses against her commission were read, pretty much in order.

 _And here, a month after her surrender, they end this farce by slapping her wrist for doing things she did **before** she died in service to the Alliance, basically ignoring all the good she's done since, stripping her of a commission she bled for on numerous planets. I honestly can't believe what I'm hearing._ James watched her pensively, struggling to keep his face as stoic as hers. _I wish it was over._

But then, after her decommissioning was complete, it got _worse_. They announced her new assignment, a mission that he realized (in retrospect) everyone _but_ him had known was coming. Yet, judging by the shock on their faces, he didn't think Shepard or Osorio had realized that while _they_ were being shipped off to the Atlantic seaboard to try to wrangle AllianceEast forces into shape...

...Vega was still assigned to the retrofit of the _Normandy_. 

\--

Osorio met them on the stairs with a bottle of wine and a bag of food. He handed the former to Shepard, and the latter to James. They greeted him with a hug and a firm handshake, respectively.

James managed to let the discussion revolve around the engineer's health for almost a full minute, before he began to protest being left behind.

The Major held up a hand to forestall him. "There is nothing to be done, James. After the meeting, I discussed it with _Zorro de Plata_ -" When they both looked at him blankly, he sighed, " **Admiral Hackett**. He was quite clear that these were his orders as well as the Committee's." They walked in single file to 2-B, and James hit the lock. He entered, and began to carry the bag of food toward the kitchen, but paused as Robert continued to speak. "I am to travel with Shepard to her old home, and there we begin to implement a planet-wide invasion response plan. We have at most two weeks, then they will move us to the next-largest city. We already have staff in place in New York, Boston, Atlanta, Miami, Houston, Chicago, and Los Angeles-"

At that, James nearly dropped the bag of food he was holding, only _just_ catching it before it hit the floor. "They're sending her to _Los Angeles_? _Without **me**_?" He set the bag carefully at his feet, then began gesticulating angrily. " _¡No manches! Están zafado! Estan locos! ¿Por qué me dejas aquí?_ I-"

" _Controlese_ , James." Osorio strode forward and laid a hand on one of his arms, pushing it down slightly. "Y recordad, Shepard no comprende Español."

In the doorway, the Commander snorted. "She understands more than either of you realize." Eliza stepped into the apartment, waited until the door panel slid shut behind her, and leaned back against it. "I didn't know it wouldn't be the entire team. They kept that from me. But I knew I was going." She heaved a sigh and glanced at James. "I guess... since you're part of _Normandy's_ retrofit, they decided not to pull you off her. You'll likely end up on her new crew. Maybe even XO." Her eyes rose to meet his, and Vega imagined... just for a second... that there was something akin to _longing_ in her glance. Then, it was gone. "New York or Los Angeles, Osorio will be able to manage the staff. And you probably shouldn't yell at him; he outranks both of us... now."

\--

Unsurprisingly, dinner was a bit fraught. Vega just tried to keep his frothing anger from boiling over onto anyone. Osorio tried to be amusing and reassuring, and urged Shepard to pack, because he thought there was a chance they were leaving on Sunday. Eliza just sipped her wine slowly and didn't eat nearly enough of the Chinese food the engineer had brought, and James bit his lip a dozen times against yelling at her to just _EAT SOMETHING, dammit._

Finally, Osorio left. Shepard went to follow him out, but James reached out and carefully caught her arm.

"Eliza. Stay."

She turned to glance at him, and he fancied he could see that same wistful look she'd cast his way earlier; it made his gut clench. Her eyes shut briefly, and when they reopened, whatever had been there was gone again. "I'm heading out to say good-bye to Adelia and Luis early tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?"

_As if I hadn't just asked you to stay the night, hm? If you think that will shut me up, you don't know me as well as I thought you did._

"I do. Now answer my question."

"You didn't _ask_ me a question. You told me to do something I'm just not sure I should do... no matter how much I want to."

James's pelvis contracted, and he tried not to move so much that her attention would be drawn to it. _She still wants me._

He turned her, just a bit, until they were face-to-face, so close. "Please?"

Quite suddenly, she rose up on her toes, her lips met his, and it was as if a wave had broken over his head... waking him up, refreshing him, and stunning him, all at once. His hand tightened on her arm, then slid to wrap around her back, As swiftly as she'd moved into him, she withdrew, pushing against his chest and stepping away.

"I can't. I barely slept last night. I need to go."

He laid his hand just at the juncture of her neck and collarbone, stroking down her shoulder softly. "If you stay, you'll sleep. You always do."

Eliza shuddered under his touch... then stepped away again. "I know. But that hasn't been an option for a while now. And it definitely won't be an option next week."

Right before the door, she turned around and said, "I ordered a Skycab for oh-nine-hundred. If that works for you? Just... knock on my door at ten to."

And she was gone.

\--

When Mrs. Ibarra told him that if he wanted to stay he could sleep on the couch... well, James thought at first she was _joking_. There was clearly a full-size bed in the spare room with Shepard. It'd be a tight fit, of course, but they'd done it before. He missed sleeping with her, and even when they'd shared the queen-sized bed in 2-B, he'd sort of missed having the excuse of crowding, to hold her.

"Lo- er... Liza?" the petite woman said, gesturing to the bathroom. "Go wash up, will you, while I talk to your cous- um, the Lieutenant?"

James saw Shepard's face as she sidled into the bathroom: a mixture of chagrin and amusement.

The tiny woman turned on him, motherly protective anger writ large on her small face. Vega nearly reflexively stepped back.

"I said... ' _COUCH_ ', and I _meant_ 'couch'." The dark brown eyes bored into his hazel ones, and he flushed. "Even out here, we hear about her trial. It is all over the news. There is a deep sadness in her; a hurt, I think, that will not soon go away. She comes here for the sanctuary we have always granted her. If she _invites_ you, that is one thing. Otherwise, you will leave her be under my roof."

James sat down on the small sofa, thoroughly cowed and trying not to think about the fact that the woman who'd done it was three-quarters his height and a third his weight. He swiveled his torso, eyeing the piece of furniture he sat on with dubious eyes.

_This... will not be pretty._

Shepard slid back out of the bathroom and looked at him. He could see she was holding back a chuckle.

"Go ahead and laugh," he grumbled. "She's four feet tall, with all the compassion of a Praetorian. I'm scared to move."

Then Shepard _did_ laugh, and it made him feel better to hear it.

"Let's swap," she offered. "I'm fine on the couch."

Vega arched a brow at her. "I'm fine sharing the bed."

"Adelia just stated the rules, and that wasn't in them."

Vega stood up, and walked the few paces to her side. "On the contrary, she said she was fine with it, if you _invited_ me."

Shepard stiffened slightly. Her eyes met his and he wished to God he knew what she was thinking.

"I think it would be better if I took the couch, and you the bed."

James sighed. "OK." He stepped around her slowly, and walked to the door of the spare room, where he turned. "If you change your mind, you're welcome to join me."

\--

She didn't change her mind, and James was in a grouchy mood as they met their skycab and traveled back to Eastside Downtown.

"What are you up to this morning?"

Eliza's head jerked back upright. She'd been nodding back to sleep on her side of the car. "I have that report to finish for Anderson. I need to do laundry. Then, well, the _one_ upside to all this is that I finally get to strip this brown gunk out of my hair, so I plan to do that after the laundromat." She sighed. "And I have to pack."

Vega snorted. "You really think they're going to drag you out of here today?"

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe?"

He twisted in his seat, trying to hide how upset the idea was making him. "I was going to do laundry this morning, too. If you bag up what you want washed and bring it downstairs, I'll do it."

Shepard tentatively smiled at him. "That would be... lovely of you. Thank you."

_Try not to be a brat. Check. Try to be a friend. Check. Try to be patient. DOUBLE check._

James sighed. Being Shepard's friend had turned out to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

\--

He showed up at 13:00 precisely, with a bag of food, a bundle of her clean clothes, and a **burning** question. He swallowed his shock at the re-blonded hair, the sharp jade-colored eyes, and took his seat in the padded chair on the other side of the coffee table. He waited patiently while she packed her laundry and plated the food. They both started to eat, and he waited until she'd actually swallowed a decent amount, prodding her to take 'the last springroll', 'that little bit of fried rice, and 'a fortune cookie, it's tradition.' He even waited through idle chat about the _weather_ , of all things. Finally he judged the time was right, that she was relaxed and off-guard enough for him to get a straight answer.

"Strange thing about the laundry. I had _exactly_ seven t-shirts - including the one I grabbed that day in the detention facility. But when I went to gather up my clothes, _weirdly_ , I could only find six. You don't know anything about that, do you?"

Shepard blinked and opened her mouth to say - something - but it was almost as if she couldn't.

_She won't lie. GOTCHA._

He moved to the edge of the chair, opposite where she sat on the sofa. "I understand swiping the heavy pistol; it was the most valuable thing in the entire damn apartment, barring, possibly, the M-8. But why one of my dirty T-shirts?"

She continued to stare at him. She opened her mouth again, and still no sound came out.

He snorted. "I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been drawers."

Eliza's face _flamed_ red. She made a small negating noise.

He put his plate down on the table, stood, stepped around, and sat down next to her on the couch. Now she was close enough to touch. He could feel heat coming off her. And he could smell her.

"I'll tell you a secret. I miss your scent, too." He reached out, slid one arm around her waist, and pulled her slowly toward him, expecting every second that she would resist, and getting harder every second that she didn't.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop."

And then _she_ kissed _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the chapter at least some of you have been waiting for. if you figured out that this Shepard was going to get shipped out, huzzah! if some of you feel like this doesn't make sense in canon, please let me know. i've been trying to set up the necessity of this Earthborn Shepard going 'home' for most of the stories; she's been destined to face her past for a long time. 
> 
> one of my major quibbles with Mass Effect is that it pretty much ignores the entire planet except Vancouver and London, so I made a point, in my headcannon, to think about what would be going on in the rest of Earth; my plan for this story includes at least a few brief glimpses into planetary defense.
> 
> Vega is... well, to me he feels a lot like Luke Skywalker: young, hot-headed, idealistic, ready to fall for a girl who is far more mature than he is, and has only the barest idea of what it means to truly love someone. At some point we can only hope he runs into his very own Yoda.
> 
> \--
> 
> Spanish:  
> Me dijo que no era bienvenido ~ She told me I wasn't welcome.  
> Dios en el cielo ~ God in heaven  
> Deja de tomarme el pelo ~ Stop teasing/tormenting me  
> ¡No manches! Están zafado! Estan locos! ¿Por qué me dejas aquí? ~ What the hell! They're mental! They're CRAZY! Why leave me here?  
> Controlese ~ Control yourself  
> Y recordad, Shepard no comprende Español ~ And remember, Shepard doesn't understand Spanish
> 
> \--
> 
> next up (of course) is Shepard. please don't throw things at me if it isn't quite as explicit as Tom's chapter. one of the major differences between those two messed-up biotics is how fast they move, 'romantically'. In some ways, Vega might have been better off with Tom. ah well, the <3 wants what the <3 wants.


	11. Shuttle Bay: The Armor Locker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
> 
> ~Neil Gaiman
> 
> \--
> 
> warning: lots of crazy behavior, some smut, and a little heartache on the side.

It was Thursday morning. Shepard woke up with an unaccustomed hangover. Even with the food and water James had forced on her - and having managed four and a half hours of sleep - she felt like something caught in the under-carriage of an APC.

Coffee, another liter of water, and a shower took the edge off. Enough, at least, so that when her omni-tool started updating on its own - she didn't immediately shrug it off and throw it into its shielded case.

_That **has** to be EDI and Joker. Right? I mean, yeah. It is. Let it finish. It's going to be OK. Eat something._

She wandered into her kitchen, took out the rest of the vegetarian _tapas_ , and stuck them into the oven on 'Warm.' She set a timer on her chron, checked the update in progress: eighty percent. Drank more water.

The update finished about the same time her chron chimed. She pulled the _tapas_ back out of the oven, and idly began to nibble as she perused the new fileset.

_Ohhhhhhhhh._

\--

**SHEP: Joker?  
_JJM: HEY_  
_JJM: FINALLY_  
SHEP: the program hung the first two times it tried to send the file back to you  
SHEP: i de-bugged it yesterday then turned off the extranet  
SHEP: been busy with visitors  
_EDI: Shepard, I apologize. There was a 14.3% chance that the program would not adapt to auto-run on your OS. I did not have time to optimize its function to cover all contingencies._  
SHEP: it's fine EDI - just wanted a bit of tweaking  
SHEP: why this code tho?  
_JJM: now we have a private IM. at least while you're still within range_  
SHEP: Joker, nothing using any part of the extranet is *private*  
_EDI: Shepard is correct, Jeff. There is a 0.05% chance that my new encryption technology platform could be broken by Alliance technicians, as it is coming from a protocol installed on my mainframe, and I am now an Alliance vessel. Also, once Shepard's immediate connection leaves the AllianceWest server bank, risk of detection and decryption by an outside network administrator goes up approximately 2% per signal transfer._  
SHEP: still a vanishingly small chance, EDI. i'm impressed  
_EDI: Thank you, Shepard. This new communication channel will not help you access the Normandy OS or any other classified intel, however. You need to download the new extranet protocols. Jeff ensured that the new software was uploaded to Lieutenant Vega's omni-tool 40 minutes, 13 seconds ago. I optimized the upload, since Jeff was concerned about the potential for violence inherent in Lieutenant Vega's physical proximity, but it will take more time to decompress the file: approximately sixteen and a half minutes, depending on your omni-tool file structure. I strongly advise transferring all files you wish to keep to a different storage medium and reformatting your device before the download. You must make sure all your extranet markers have been deleted._  
SHEP: i understand, EDI. tonight will be problematic. ditto tomorrow. maybe Saturday. but i will definitely make sure it's done before i leave your broadcast area  
SHEP: acceptable?  
_EDI: Of course, Shepard. No matter what the Alliance decides, I remain in your service._  
_JJM: i'm getting cavities_  
_EDI: I do not understand, Jeff._  
SHEP: never mind. status of the financial endeavor?  
_JJM: no skin off my nose, Shepard, but WHAT do you need all that money for?_  
SHEP: i want to buy something while i'm in NY  
SHEP: it's going to be expensive  
_JJM: what, another SHIP? shit, Shepard, there's almost a million cred in that account_  
_JJM: the program just keeps shaving off a few credits from every transaction since EDI set it in motion_  
SHEP: that's the point, Joker. everyone who has done business with Sinclair since they took money from the Hegemony is paying a _lack of patriotism_ tax  
SHEP: trust me, they'll never notice the incremental grift. it's the last, final, transfer that will raise flags  
SHEP: but by the time Sinclair figures out something is wrong, i will have withdrawn the funds in Manhattan and erased the trail  
SHEP: we timed it this way on purpose. it's all good  
_JJM: you DO get that this is stealing, right? i mean, just so we're on the same page_  
_JJM: we don't have to have a conversation about legal versus illegal, right?_  
SHEP: you worry too much, Joker**

\--

Shepard shut down the new messaging application with a sigh. EDI had assured her that the new extranet protocol would contain it; it was one program she didn't have to worry about pulling onto the datapad and then re-installing.

She really _ought_ to start saving over files NOW, while she didn't have anything more pressing to do, just in case Vega descended on her tonight, and she had an unexpected opportunity to grab the new download.

_I don't know. I think... I think I'd better go with the initial plan and duck him tonight._

Things were rapidly spiraling out of control. She knew it. He knew it. The only difference was that NOW she _also_ knew that she was leaving. **He** didn't know that. Not yet.

_'Maybe I decided I'm OK if you use me.'_

Jesus. Just like that. A week ago he was poking her incessantly about Kaidan. Now, suddenly, that was no longer an issue. A week ago, he was _worried_ that she might do something she regretted. Now? Now the opportunities to throw caution to the wind were piling up at her door.

_His reluctance? Gone. My commission? Soon to be gone. My panic attacks? Gone. Or... mostly gone._

Hell, she couldn't even get pregnant, the techs said. She vaguely remembered that it was one of the reasons they'd supplied for harvesting her eggs, an aspect of being incarcerated that had been _particularly_ **enraging**. Not that she'd ever paused long enough while flying around the galaxy killing things, to even decide if she was _interested_ in having children. For her new-and-improved body they were apparently no longer an option. But that meant they also weren't a _worry_. Neither was disease.

There was literally NO REASON she couldn't just go to bed with him, if she wanted to... save _regret._ He'd called it. The potential for regret was as real as the fact that she'd developed... rather _inconvenient_ feelings for James Vega.

\--

_This is insane. This is **ridiculously** stupid._

She popped open the messenger app again, just in front of the door.

**SHEP: Joker?  
_JJM: yeah?_  
SHEP: he's still on board, right?  
_JJM: yeah_  
_JJM: why?_  
SHEP: no reason. do me a favor and message me if he leaves, OK?  
_JJM: WHAT ARE YOU STEALING NOW?_  
SHEP: stop**

She thought about telling Joker that she wasn't breaking ANY laws going inside her old apartment. Hell, her DNA was still on the lock, so - _technically_ \- he **wanted** her to be able to enter.

The main room was still relatively clean; the desk was buried under print-outs, a few datapads, and a coffee mug, but that was to be expected. The bedroom door was open; she carefully glided over the repaired floorboards, still impressed by the way he and Osorio had managed to erase the damage she'd done.

The bed wasn't made, which... that was the sign. She'd told herself, while still upstairs, that IF he'd made his bed, he OBVIOUSLY didn't want anyone to sneak in here and problem solve in it.

_This is insane._

Her entire early life had been composed of doing risky, illegal (and borderline illegal) things, but she had NEVER done anything like this. She'd _never_ sneaked into someone's home, knowing they were gone, with an _actual plan_ to climb into their bed and masturbate. This was exactly the sort of thing a crazy person would do.

Realistically, Eliza knew he wouldn't mind. Or, the only thing he WOULD mind was the part where he wasn't home to watch. _NOT doing that again._

She crawled into the bed that had been theirs and stretched out. It smelled like him. She took a deep breath, tried to feel again how it had been last night, standing on the roof, looking at the moon, knowing he was considering whether or not he make a move even after he'd promised otherwise. It had felt... dangerous.

_'I won't even ask for a kiss though I happen to believe anyone who brings you cookies should really get one.'_

She began to rub between her legs somewhat tentatively, trying to use the scent of the sheets, memories of the roof, and the knowledge that she was safe, to locate the mood she'd been in several times since meeting James. It worked for a few minutes... until it didn't. She clenched her teeth together in frustration.

_What the FUCK is WRONG with me?_

She wanted to cry. Refused to. That would be be pathetic. But it was _incredibly annoying_ that _something_ wasn't working anymore; some essential piece just wasn't there.

_What am I MISSING?_

Eliza steadfastly refused to consider that it might be the presence of Vega, being a pain in her ass.

\--

On the way out of the bedroom, her eyes settled on a T-shirt, discarded on the floor. She paused.

 _He'd never miss it. OK, he_ might _miss THIS one, but I can replace it with one from the laundry bin._

She minced across the living room and swung the bathroom door all the way open, looking for the hamper. She made the exchange, and escaped back into the living room with her prize. She brought it to her nose; it smelled enough like James to make her belly wobble, but not so much like sweat that the wobble evolved into nausea. She left, clutching it, and found a paper bag from her shopping to put it in, then hid it in her bedroom.

 _This is a new **low** , Eliza. The first caper was... sort of a lark, right? To do that in the bed of someone who's basically been asking you to do it for_ weeks _, while they're not home? But you stole from him **again**. And this time, dirty clothes. That's..._

She sat down on her sofa, shaking her head.

_You're a mess, that's what. At least he'll never find out._

\--

**From: Dr. Karin Chakwas (karin_chakwas@researchdev.alliance.org)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 24.06.2186. 13:26 MST  
Subject: new position, new email  
Message: I meant to leave you my contact information, Shepard, but it utterly slipped my mind (I always forget how strong Serrice Ice Brandy actually is!) after dinner.**

**And this morning... well, I don't think my testimony will make any difference in the end, but I will tell you what I told them: I will never forget the moment you pulled me from that pod on the Collector Base, and I realized I wasn't going to be dissolved alive. I told them that they're fools not to trust you; fools not to keep you flying in this fight.**

**I'm sorry I couldn't help more.**

**My new position is in Shalta Ward, on the Citadel: Alliance Research and Development. If there is anything I can do for you while I'm there, PLEASE let me know. I will miss you, Eliza. I wish you nothing but the best.**

**~Karin**

**PS: Why have you not yet taken that lovely man up on his considerable offer? My wholly unsolicited advice is that you reconsider, Shepard. It's not like rank will be an issue after tomorrow.**

\--

Shepard spent time on the roof, weeding and watering her plants. She tried not to be upset that - on top of losing her rank and command - she was losing _both_ of the places that had ever felt like a home.

_It's OK to be upset. The Normandy was everything to me for a long time... and this place turned into a refuge when I needed it. It's good to be grateful. It's OK to feel sad._

Liara had told her to try to embrace her feelings as they came up. The nullification field was designed to lower barriers; by its nature, it teased out repressed emotions (anger and sadness especially) and twisted them like taffy. Part of healing from her imprisonment was learning to deal with such strong negativity again: feeling it... and letting it go. Maybe she _should_ find time for another protracted cry, but - she was just too tired.

_And really sick of crying._

She pulled the surviving lounger into the shade and grabbed the old battered datapad.

_OK. Chapter sixteen..._

\--

There, on the roof, reading that stupid, _stupid_ novel, Shepard finally managed to fix her problem again.

 _Man, I hope the thing that was 'missing' isn't something to do with this **roof** , because that would make the upcoming trip awfully damn long._

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Kaidan Alenko (k_alenko@psiops.alliance.mil)  
Date: 24.06.2186. 13:45 MST  
Subject: Re: so...  
Message: That's some fast grapevine, eh? I had lunch with Osorio a couple days ago, and - to reassure me - he let a few things slip about the 'next assignment.' I have to say, it's damn ironic that - if he _hadn't_ \- YOU would know more about what was about to happen to me that *I* do. **

**Although, given our history, par for the course?**

**I've wanted to believe you're actually sorry about Horizon for a long, long time. I wanted to let you know that I DID finally get your voice-mail from May. As you've no doubt realized, it was a day too late. But I appreciate that you tried.**

**Apparently Dr. Chakwas is headed your way. We had a lovely dinner last night, but she left this morning (after finishing her testimony). She just emailed me to let me know she's been transferred to Research and Development, in Shalta. So there will be at least one person on the Citadel who knows you, and can help if you end up with a migraine.**

**~ Shepard**

\--

Barely three hours of sleep, but she'd finished the novel, backed-up her omni-tool, turned it off to prevent the upload occurring at the shuttle pad, cleaned the apartment, and started filling out all the paperwork she'd need to deliver once she got to NYC. As the time crept toward 05:00, she'd even returned a call to a lawyer's office in the Hudson Valley, letting the secretary on duty know when the woman who'd sent the retainer would be arriving. Of course, she intended to send one of the Reds... if she found someone trustworthy. If she didn't- well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Luckily, Tom had unwittingly taught her quite a bit about going undercover.

On the walk to the schoolyard, anger warred with sadness... the precise mix of emotions Liara had warned her about.

_James is going to be there early, I know it. He wouldn't want us to take any chances today. Then again, even if I WAS late, what are they going to do? Throw me out twice?_

She locked down. _No tears now. There he is._

\--

Osorio basically followed them home. She felt hollow, empty, NOT hungry - what did either of them expect her to say? To do? She had nothing left to give. They'd done it.

They'd really done it.

Eliza automatically took the bottle of wine Osorio was handing her. She listened to James rail about being excluded from the trip, up until the point where it started to **get on her nerves**.

_YOU didn't just lose your rank and your home. YOU have the Normandy. So do me a solid and SHUT THE FUCK UP._

She was about to yell... when _Osorio_ interceded, upbraided him. Shepard stepped into the apartment, felt the door at her back slide closed and heard the lock click. The same lock that had saved her life, weeks ago. It salved the anger, modified the retort she'd been about to spit out into something softer, more... resigned.

_You need to stop now, James. One lost battle is not the war._

\--

Kissing him and running wasn't far from her initial plan, but inviting him to go with her to see the Ibarras had been a weird sort of defense mechanism.

It was soothing, however, to see Luis and Adelia. And they'd clearly missed James.

She and Vega shared breakfast pastries from the old neighborhood with Adelia. After a couple hours, they took a walk around Port Moody to find lunch (and to give Adelia some time to herself before Luis came home). He'd landed a part-time weekend job doing building maintenance in town, and later told them that he was hoping it would turn into full-time employment so he could stop commuting.

They returned to the little house with a few distinct plans as to what the couple might do, in advance of the Reapers. It was a relief to be able to give them a list; to beg them to do all the things she was about to begin advising _everyone_ do: be vigilant, stock food and weapons, prepare places to hide, get to know neighbors, organize.

Dinner was wonderful: good food, humor and serious conversation mixed in easy-to-digest portions. But Vega began getting ancy about the return trip around 18:00 hours. They were lingering over _churros_ and coffee, and she was describing her tiny garden to Adelia... when James glanced at his chron for the third time. Eliza stopped, mid-phrase, and turned on him.

"Look, Vega - if you want to go home, GO HOME. I swear I'll find my way back by tomorrow morning."

He'd blinked. Balked. Sputtered a negative. That had been when Adelia sweetly invited Shepard to sleep over, speared James with a quelling glance and said "You may stay as well, if you can _behave_ yourself."

After Shepard and Vega bickered over the sleeping arrangements, and retreated to their respective corners, Adelia came back out of the bedroom she shared with Luis and sat down on the couch next to Eliza. Then _she_ shared some advice, too. 

About James.

\--

An hour later, Eliza silently opened the door to the spare bedroom and slipped inside, shutting the door again quietly. She extended her energy field, noting with both disappointment and relief that Vega was _absolutely_ unconscious.

Still. She began to glow, imperceptibly getting brighter by the second, as she stole _just_ enough of his energy to make sure he wouldn't awaken when she laid down next to him. 

And turned her omni-tool back on.

\--

_I'm not sure if anything else feels as amazing as truly clean hair._

Eliza didn't remember the last time that her hair had felt so light... and like she could braid it back into a French tail without worrying it would be stuck together in a clumpy mess after a few hours. She actually left it down to dry, swinging it back and forth with giddy abandon as she tossed the vial containing her brown lenses into the trash.

Then, reluctantly, she retrieved them. _Who knows? Might come in handy in NY._

She sort of wished she had another dose of dye and remover. _Though it'd take an end-of-world crisis to ever get me to agree to wear that damn stuff for **weeks** again._

\--

Lunch was going along swimmingly. There was no hint of yesterday's impatience in Vega today; just take-out, solicitous attention, admiring (albeit shocked, she could tell) glances at her natural hair and eye color.

It was almost as if... everything was wrapping up. James had performed remarkably well at the job Anderson had recruited him for, and in recompense he was going to end up XO on the _Normandy_ , and she was happy for him. 

_Or... I'm **trying to be** , anyway._

And THEN... it all went to heaven in a handbasket when he asked her about his missing T-shirt.

\--

It felt like she'd barely touched her lips to his when he took over the kiss, sliding the hand on her back upwards to grasp her head, using his lips and tongue to invade her mouth. The heat was immediate: conquering, weakening, consuming. She felt like she was melting into a puddle on the couch. Eliza couldn't actually fall over, though; the hand in her hair was holding her upright. She thought, she might have lain down on the couch already, if that hand hadn't been there.

James shifted, pulling, and she was being lifted. She realized it was because his left arm had grasped her haunch, and was pulling her up and forward. She remembered this part, from the roof: straddling him. It had been really nice.

So she went along with it, crawling forward onto him, knees settling on either side. But then he insistently rocked her forward and she felt... it reminded her of the time she'd climbed over a still-standing wooden fence as a kid... there was a post between her thighs-

_That can't be normal. I don't remember that from last time. Or with Kaidan._

Some far-away part of her brain - quite abstractly - posed the possibility that she had a hymen again. How would she know if Cerberus had repaired it, as they had repaired everything _else_? She considered the possibility that (given Vega's size and her maybe-hymen) having sex again could end up being almost as painful as the first time, and (if so) she was an _idiot_ to contemplate doing it.

Almost as if James could read her mind, the kiss gentled, became exploratory. Shepard wondered if she'd allowed herself to tense up, or otherwise hint that she was having second thoughts, because things slowed down to a speed she could handle, and she slammed back into her body with a resounding mental THUD.

The kiss had changed while she was silently debating whether or not Cerberus would have bothered reconstructing useless anatomy. His teeth nipped her bottom lip beseechingly, and his tongue - while still in her mouth - wasn't plunging in and out insistently. He was licking at her lips as if enticing her to return the favor. So she did. He groaned.

Both of his hands had settled on her waist. He wasn't grinding up against her anymore, but as he moaned, the hands gripped harder, pulling her down just enough that his inflated denims _scraped_ against her in the right spot. It felt _amazing_ , and it reminded her of the day in the Null Room when he'd pinned her to the floor. She shuddered.

"I almost lost you there for a second; I could tell," he murmured, pulling away from her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to kiss me, and I went a little _loco_. I'm back now."

Shepard stared into his eyes, greener than their normal hazel, dilated, locked on hers. "I just... I haven't really done this in a long time. Ever, I suppose, in this body. In fact, I had this insane thought-" She stopped.

He ran his thumbs down over her hipbones and she shook again. "What?"

"Uh... nothing."

He arched a brow at her. "Spill."

She shook her head. "Really, it's nothing."

James sighed. "I see." His hands slid up to her ribcage, and he bent her torso back far enough for him to place his lips against her throat, then slide them down over one of her breasts.

_Oh... I remember this, too. Only last time, there was no shirt._

This time his mouth closed over her nipple over her clothing, yet it still felt as intense as she remembered. Maybe more so.

He nipped, holding her still when she would have jerked back and hurt herself. Then he started to suckle, and she couldn't prevent the noise that escaped her throat. His hands slid back down, thumbs lower, over her pelvis, until the left hand was holding her hip in place, and the right-

"Oh!" Once again she would have jerked away in shock, had his hold not kept her still.

He raised his head and said lazily, "Problem?" The thumb continued to press in and move, so slowly.

Shepard tried to control her breathing. In. Out. In.... "No, I- I- **God**."

He grinned, pleased with himself, with his aim, with his insistence that this would eventually happen, and she honestly couldn't blame him for being pleased because it just... felt... so...

The thumb stopped moving. She bit her lip to stop herself from groaning.

"Shepard, look at me."

She hadn't realized her eyes had closed at some point. She opened them.

"Ask me or order me, I really don't care, but I'd like some verbal input here."

She blinked, shaking her head slightly."What?"

He let his right thumb make a couple circles on her linen trousers again. "Do you like that?"

She'd clenched her jaw against the whimpers, so she tried just nodding. He snorted at her.

"I'd like a 'yes' or 'no'."

_GOD._

"Yes," she gritted out.

"Want more of it?" He had an impish smile playing on his lips. She wanted to kiss him and punch him in equal measure.

_After I regain my sanity, you are SO going to pay for this._

"Yes," she repeated.

"Pants or no pants?" he inquired, as if she was shopping for a new omni-tool, picking out software options.

She stared at him, mind blanking.

"Eliza, I can work through fabric if I have to, but you'd make my year if you stood up and let me take these damn trousers off."

She flushed red.

He grinned. "Or down. Down works too."

She had that out-of-body floaty feeling again, as if she could not possibly be sitting on a couch with her parole officer, while he stroked her clitoris and they discussed whether or not she was willing to remove her pants. NONE of the advice Adelia had given her had covered _this._

"I-" She cleared her throat and tried again. "I guess... down?"

James pushed at her until she figured out he wanted her to climb off of him. He stood, bent until his shoulder touched her mid-section, and straightened again, tossing her up onto his back in one smooth motion. She shrieked.

"If you're going to shake the building again, a little warning would be nice."

She hung upside down, bouncing with his steps, wanting to berate him with how very UN-romantic this was, but by the time she thought of something appropriately scathing to say, she was already being flipped back and lowered onto the bed.

His hands gripped the front of her pants, fingers sliding under the waistband, working the button and the zipper, easing the front open, slipping back into the band of not only the trousers but also her drawers, and beginning to slide everything - as agreed - _down_.

She bit her lip again, and glanced at his face. He was staring intently at the anatomy being uncovered, and she wished he'd pull the blinds on the windows.

"I've been dreaming about this for weeks," his voice broke slightly, and she felt herself choke up a bit, too.

_At least it wasn't just me._

"Anything off-limits?"

Eliza could feel herself flushing as her clothing slipped past her rear end. "What?"

With a swift motion, James leaned forward, flipped up her shirt, and placed his lips just below her belly button. She cried out and would have scrambled backward if his hands weren't grasping her hips. His tongue shot out, dipped into her navel. She squirmed, reaching out to grab his hair.

He raised his head. His eyes were glassy. He licked his lips, and she felt her pelvis spasm. "I repeat - anything off-limits?"

She didn't know what to say; 'I don't think it's a good idea for us to take our relationship from me packing to leave, to you going down on me, in under two hours' sounded so... so... _Shepard_. And the bald fact was that she wanted an orgasm, _with him_ , badly enough that she would have accepted **anything**.

Meanwhile, his tongue had started to move again, painting concentric widening circles on her pelvic bone. He was almost- 

_Wait, what?_

Vega also raised his head. "What the _fuck_ is that?" They both listened for a moment, but the noise had stopped.

Suddenly their omni-tools went off simultaneously, each screeching with the 'Urgent' code that only... **Hackett** had.

James laid his head down on her abdomen, eyes shut. He was trying to slow his breathing; his hands were clenched into fists on either side of her hips. "Not that I'm explicitly counting, but this is the SECOND TIME that man has strolled in and obliterated my night with you. Exactly how many years in the brig would I get for killing an Admiral?"

Eliza tried to catch her own breath, answer him calmly, but inside she was screaming invective. "Quite a few, I'd imagine."

_WHAT the ABSOLUTE FUCK?! What God of Misfortune did I manage to PISS OFF?!?!_

He turned his head in a deliberate motion, so that his chin stubble rubbed over the juncture of her legs, and she reflexively tried to jump, without actually moving very far. 

_Huh. Pinned down and not panicking. I need to think about that later, but it seems... good._

"Might be worth it." Again his head moved slightly, deliberately, and his chin-

The loud noises, which had paused, now resumed. It sounded like... banging? "James. I haven't checked my omni-tool in hours. Have you?"

He expelled a violent breath and rolled off her. " **No** , I goddamn **haven't**. _¡A poco! ¡A la chingada!_." He grumbled out Spanish curse words for a few more seconds as Shepard surreptitiously re-clothed her lower half. He glanced over at the movement, and his face grew even more irritated. " _Ahorita vengo_." He stood up next to the bed with a strangled groan, making adjustments to his uniform. The thought occurred to her that he probably wouldn't fight her if she grabbed him and pulled him back down, and she closed her eyes against the temptation.

_Maybe Hackett is here to drop off some classified documents, talk to me about the trip a bit. Maybe go over the report I filed this morning. Maybe they'll just be here for a little while and then they'll LEAVE._

She heard Vega's heavy tread as he walked out of the bedroom, and then he called back: "That banging noise is apparently the roof access door. Given the contents of these three messages I didn't read earlier, you have successfully locked out Osorio and Hackett."

_If I had parents, I'm sure they'd be proud._

She managed to scramble to her feet, walked out into the living room to join him. "Are we letting them in?"

"I think we have to, right? I mean, I'm open to another suggestion."

She wanted to cry, but his droll acceptance of their incredibly crappy timing made her snort out a laugh, as always. "I wish I had one."

His jaw was so tight the tendons were standing out in his neck. He raked his hands through his hair, looking anywhere but her as he fought to calm down.

"I don't think I can do this. Not without a cold shower. I'm sorry to leave you to... to deal with them..."

Shepard dashed off a message to Hackett that read "In 2-B. Missed emails. Be up in a minute." She walked over to James and carefully touched his elbow. "It's OK. I messaged him that I was downstairs and would be up in a minute. Go... do what you need to do."

He finally met her eyes, and they looked approximately the same as the last time Hackett had shown up like this: dark, manic, and angry. She sighed.

"James... look, you _rightly_ called me out for just wanting... a fling, something I could then blame you for, lie to myself that it was all your idea, and that I didn't care for you. But..." Shepard took a big breath, "that isn't true. I _do_ care. I don't know... when it happened, or... if it's just the fact that you 'came to my rescue', as it were." 

She went over to the roof access door and flipped the lock, trying desperately to forget where his hands had been a few minutes ago. _His **fingers**... his tongue._

When she glanced over her shoulder, Vega was _staring_ at her, but she couldn't decipher his expression. She sighed. "I'm going to go up and open the door. They know _I'm_ in here, at least. They're not going to just leave. They may even be here to take me back into custody."

James' eyes narrowed, and he nodded thoughtfully. "Annnnnd, now that you brought _that_ up, I'm not leaving until he assures us otherwise. I'll... _Joder_. I'll be in the kitchen."

Eliza, puzzled, watched him as he walked into the kitchen and directly to her refrigerator. He opened the freezer compartment and pulled out a tray of ice.

_Oh. Oh my..._

\--

It turned out they were there, with a shuttle, to transfer Ms. Elizabeth Shepard to Alliance Headquarters with the express purpose of ensuring her attendance at three very important meetings (she later found out, after she finished rebooting and re-configuring her omni-tool and actually _read_ all of the messages that had accrued since she emailed Kaidan, that these meetings had been planned for two days).

The Major and the Admiral were all business, trying not to intimate anything was wrong in her remaining unreachable for so long. They didn't look askance at her 'travel luggage' (two huge plastic contractor trash bags), or the small box of toiletries that she ended up handing to Osorio.

"Did you ever say good-bye to Adelia and Luis?" Shepard asked him, as he took the box with the three bars of soap the tiny woman had given her tucked inside.

"Earlier in the week, yes. They will understand if you have not. I had the advantage of knowing we leave very early tomorrow."

"James and I went last night and stayed over. We just got back a few hours ago. We were eating lunch." Her protests sounded plaintive in her ears.

"Ah," Osorio replied, looking over at James. His eyes, however, were knowing... 

...and sad.

She, too, turned to the Lieutenant. "It sounds like we might not get time in the morning, so I wanted to ask you now to, well, water my plants? On the roof?" She looked away. "I mean... the roof is yours, now. Oh!" She went over to the small side-table next to the sofa, opened the drawer, and proffered the gun inside to him, handle-first. "Here's your pistol back."

Hackett cleared his throat loudly. "Speaking of the roof, we'll go back up now. Shepard, you _do_ understand that first meeting starts in fifteen minutes, and it would be a damn good idea if you were actually _there_?"

Eliza sighed. "I'll be right behind you."

As soon as both officers started walking up the stairs, Vega reached out to embrace her. So _tight_. Tighter, even, than Adelia. She let him.

"I _have_ to go," she murmured. "I'll miss you. Thank you... for saving my life."

The man holding her sniffed. She realized she couldn't bear it if he was actually crying, so she decided he couldn't be. He cinched her in even tighter; she wondered if this is was when _he_ would crack _her_ ribs. But then he let her go.

_"De nada_ , Shepard." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, not sorry.
> 
> look, it had to happen. we're pushing onward. if you're getting strung out on all the interruptions, just imagine how _James_ is feeling.
> 
> Spanish:  
> Ahorita vengo ~ I'll be right back


	12. Shuttle Bay: The Procurement Terminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes the things you most wish for... are not to be touched."
> 
> The Witch, _Into the Woods_.

_This is what I left James for. This mess._

The first meeting (the one that Shepard absolutely, positively, couldn't be late to) was in fact important. And she was in fact (slightly) late. She walked into one of the larger conference rooms with Osorio and Hackett, only to find the eight AllianceWest Generals on the Defense Committee waiting for them. Other brass, visible in hologram, were also technically in attendance from the Southwest, South, and East headquarters.

_So... I just kept about a quarter of the leaders of Earth's ground defense forces waiting. Not a bad start to this assignment._

She locked down her shoulders and saluted. None of them returned it.

_Oh... yeah._

Of course all the lower ranks, arrayed in niches along the walls, manning the data terminals displaying far-away leaders, DID salute, which...

One of the Sergents swung an arm out, indicating a table for her and Osorio, which they gingerly occupied. The meeting turned out to be one long readiness report, giving her a pretty good idea of what Alliance reserve forces might be available (not many), and what they will be willing to do (not much). The Generals, at least, also had the most recent population figures (disturbingly concentrated), list of extra civilian medical facilities (under-supplied and understaffed), and what bases had been doing to stockpile food and weapons thus far (nearly nothing).

Eliza found herself grasping for patience over and over again. She _twice_ caught herself beginning to glow. Each time, the discourse faltered and fell eerily silent, as the proximal Generals seemed to remember that over half of them had voted her into a Null room, and then _out_ of the service. Their behavior reminded Shepard of a field of rabbits, as the hawk flies overhead.

She kept asking questions, even when the answers exasperated her: have you begun to bunker at all? If so, where? Have manufacturers stepped up weapon production? If not, WHY not? and so on. She kept at them, and came out of the first meeting fairly pleased with her ability to function... given that (not that long ago) she was experiencing bliss underneath her parole officer.

After the first meeting with ground forces, they were thrown into the next with the Navy. And then into a summary meeting with the staffs of various heads of state. Her mind was swimming with figures by twenty-hundred, and - while she'd taken _some_ notation - she prayed Osorio had gotten the proceedings on his ever-present omni-tool camera. She now knew more about the availability of transports, shuttles, freighters, bunkers, tunnel systems, and supplies than she'd ever imagined she would.

Eliza also found herself idly wondering what all this brass thought of the lower ranks still saluting her; Hackett didn't even raise an eyebrow.

She considered it an incredibly lucky turn of events that she'd cleaned out her omni-tool before this onslaught of data. Of course it had been done, ostensibly, so that she could hack back through the Alliance firewalls tonight. Soon, she'd have access to everything the Generals _hadn't_ wanted to tell her during this briefing. Then - when EDI justified these figures with the _actual_ data - she'd learn which of these military leaders was withholding information, and exactly what they'd lied about.

 _Perhaps a week and a half in a null prison made me just that fucking cynical, but I'd bet all the money I just stole from Sinclair that at least HALF of these Generals and Admirals aren't being honest with me about their readiness, or about their desire to become more ready._ Shepard exhaled loudly in frustration. _They don't believe an invasion is coming._

Near the end of the last meeting, some of the executive secretaries brought forward the requests by State: for her and Osorio to review AllianceEurope and AllianceAsia forces, if there was time. The extent of the potential workload made Eliza want to throw up.

The first thing she and Osorio decided was that they needed to begin work on a template, based on her knowledge of Reaper forces, that could be adapted by local reserves in order to fit their individual city resources. Eliza starting dictating her ideas to Robert, and he began fitting the current armed force data for AllianceWest into it, suggesting changes where the data didn't seem to support her suggestions. As her frustration with the process grew, she carefully, quietly, instant-messaged EDI regarding the hack. It took less than twenty minutes of careful work to open a channel back into the .mil databases, and another few minutes to send EDI all the data she'd received during the meetings.

EDI's analysis was... illuminating. She'd _over_ estimated the Alliance's commitment to transparency.

 _What the absolute fuck do they expect me to do when they won't even give me accurate numbers? And will this be the process at EVERY Headquarters?_

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Garrus Vakarian (garrus_vakarian@18reserves.menae.net)  
Date: 27.06.2186. 20:35 MST  
Subject: planetary defense  
Message: Perhaps you have heard (hell, perhaps you KNEW) what they've dropped in my lap. If you did, I wish you had TOLD me, so I could have picked your brain on what the reserve forces are doing on Palaven. I have meetings booked into the foreseeable future, but I will drop _everything_ if you end up on Earth again. I don't know how long this email might remain active; I thought they'd intended for me to keep it if I cooperated with testimony, but I've been one step behind since they threw me in prison.**

**~Shepard**

\--

She and Osorio worked on the template, and the West particulars, until nearly midnight. Their only arguments happened when Shepard insisted on certain points (such as weapon stashes in particular cities) that _she_ knew fit the _actual_ numbers, but Osorio insisted were pie in the sky. Other discrepancies she let pass, since she wasn't utterly stupid; Osorio wasn't a suspicious person by nature, but he _knew_ she was a hacker.

They both fell into their bunks, managing barely three hours of sleep before their atmo-shuttle flight at 03:00. Shepard, well accustomed to snatching sleep where she could, grabbed an hour more en route. The transport dropped them on the shuttlepad at AllianceEast, barely in time to catch their first meeting with the AE Generals at 07:00 local time.

\--

Shepard tried not to think about the last time she was in NYC, fifteen-plus years ago. The North Heights recruiting center where Kane had dropped her off was almost certainly gone, in any event. So many things were.

_Hell, the Reds themselves could be gone. I'll know soon enough._

She pressed "Send" on a message, even as she hopped out of the shuttle.

\--

**From: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
To: Cathán Moran (c_moran@manager.crimson_funding.org)  
Date: 28.06.2186. 06:48 EST  
Subject: test  
Message: you still there? it's Eilís. i'm in town.**

\--

Even though it was perched like a giant bird in the mountains overlooking the river, the AllianceEast Headquarters managed to exude a sharper, brisker energy than the urban AllianceWest offices.

Eliza was glad she'd taken pains to dress professionally - even if she was no longer entitled to wear a uniform - and to put her hair up in a modified French knot. She'd asked Hackett about a new 'dress' wardrobe, and he'd thoughtfully had two 'suits' (dark linen trousers, matching vests, and button down shirts in white and rose) delivered on Friday night. She'd put the first set on after her shower Sunday _just in case_ (and, if she was honest, to see what James thought) and it had turned out to be fortuitous, given she hadn't had time to change (or do much of anything) before they'd pushed her into that first meeting with the AW Generals. In Vancouver, the clothes had seemed almost chic. Here she felt... barely presentable.

At least her attire was serviceable for another endless day of meetings. She and Osorio (in his dress blues, new gold star conspicuously gleaming, looking impossibly distinguished) shared their template, fitting in the AE datasets. Again, on the sly, Shepard fed their numbers through EDI, double-checking the data. She was strangely gratified to find they were under-estimating their forces and supplies _almost_ as acutely as AW.

_If I make it through every one of these cities without calling the Systems Alliance on their bullshit, they ought to give **me** another fucking medal._

\--

**From: Cathán Moran (c_moran@manager.crimson_funding.org)  
To: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
Date: 28.06.2186. 09:02 EST  
Subject: Re: test  
Message: so i heard. good of you to finally contact me. it's only been, what, four years?**

**we've rebranded several times. current name Leprechaun's Rest. North Heights. i want to see you. when?**

**~K**

\--

It was far past noon. No one had thought to offer them food, and neither of them had thought to object to not having it offered. Eliza hadn't even missed it, but Major Osorio finally called out one of the staffers by rank and pretty much _demanded_ that someone show them to a mess during their next half-hour break.

Shepard gnawed on her salad, chatted with Osorio, and nodded to a slow but steady stream of young enlisted people, who - in attempting to stroll by casually - rather endeared themselves to her.

 _It's like they're at a zoo, sliding by an exhibit, hoping that they'll get a good look but not sure they want the tiger to actually see_ them _. Poor kids._

Their flustered handler finally located them and attempted to drag them off to the Officer's Mess, but Shepard and Osorio resisted, claiming that they already had food, and they were fine where they were. Osorio _did_ ask the Sergent where they were being billeted, and the man waited around until they were done eating. He escorted them to a building that contained officers' quarters. They'd been given a joint room, a circumstance that caused Osorio to object on her behalf. Shepard rolled her eyes slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder to quiet him.

"Robert, they want someone of rank to be responsible for me. You'll do."

The dark man flushed, ducking his head. "If you say so, Commander."

Eliza sighed. "Not 'Commander', Major Osorio. Not anything now." She suddenly grinned. "Look - don't worry. That 'have a nightmare, shred the bedroom' thing? Almost _totally_ under control."

Osorio raised his head swiftly, caught her grin, and blew out a breath. "That was not funny, Commander. Not funny at all."

She laughed and winked. " _Eliza_. And... it was for _me_."

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 28.06.2186. 05:34 MST  
Subject: Hope you're OK.  
Message: Thought I might get an email from you last night after you got to Headquarters. Hope you weren't too late to your meeting, and that everything is well. Nothing much going on here, though I did just go up and water your plants. I assume I'm allowed to eat the green beans?**

**Miss you. Stay safe.**

**~James**

\--

The days dragged on at AllianceEast. Monday became Tuesday. Tuesday became Wednesday. Meetings stacked on top of meetings. Plans drafted and rejected. By Wednesday afternoon, Eliza was so frustrated, she'd caught herself glowing three more times. She'd considered putting her fist through a wall. Twice.

After a brief consultation with the Major, Shepard let their Alliance handler know that she and Osorio were taking Thursday off to do research and re-engineer their template. They received very little push-back from the AllianceEast brass.

Given everything they'd endured thus far, Eliza suspected the true problem was that AllianceEast (much like AllianceWest) was unwilling to commit ground forces to counter an invasion they _didn't believe was coming_. And that strong suspicion, coupled with her increasing frustration, meant that she needed to get out of the highlands for awhile.

Besides, she had errands in Manhattan. People to see. Credits to plunder.

A far better avenue for rousing the populace to tap.

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 30.06.2186. 19:20 MST  
Subject: you're probably asleep  
Message: Have things been crazy there? Hoped I might hear from you once you got settled. Let me know you're OK, huh?**

**~Vega**

\--

**From: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
To: Cathán Moran (c_moran@manager.crimson_funding.org)  
Date: 30.06.2186. 19:44 EST  
Subject: funny how being dead can interfere with communication  
Message: see you tomorrow at noon. i'll have company: be nice.**

**also, messenger my documents tonight; i'm going to need them.**

**{attachment: Important_Don't_Delete.xdoc}**

\--

_The most inconvenient banking reforms in history include having to show up in person to withdraw large sums of credit and to close accounts._

And there was no way she was going to trust one of the Reds with a chit containing three-quarters of a million credits.

The trick was to locate a restaurant that was either too poor or too laissezfaire to mount cameras covering _every_ square meter of their dining area, but also too well-to-do (or too responsible) to lack bathrooms. It turned out to be a smaller pool than Shepard had hoped, going by the scans she'd done with her omni-tool, and the hefty amount of recording signals per square kilometer all over the damn city. She'd learned a lot from Osorio in the preceding weeks, but she still wished she could tell him about her little heist and get his _explicit_ aid.

In her estimation, _The Chameleon Room_ appeared to have a large enough hole in both their exterior and interior coverage that _Eliza Shepard_ could visibly have breakfast and then have gone north, unrecorded, and remain so for almost a block; _Eilís Moran_ could likewise leave the diner unseen, and wouldn't be picked up on vid until she'd traveled nearly two blocks closer to her eventual destination: East Coast Amalgamated Bank. This particular financial institution had been chosen by EDI due to their apparent lack of voice print security, and a somewhat _nostalgic_ view of banking's relationship with organized crime.

Eilís had much darker reddish-brown hair than Eliza herself did. She had brown eyes. She was wearing stylish knee-high boots (that concealed cleverly-made lifts) in which Ms. Moran appeared to be six feet tall. The fact that the young woman had rather more _lower leg_ than physically probable was obscured by dark skintight leggings and a long skirt. Shepard had also procured an emerald green suit jacket and cats-eye-shaped eyeglasses. Her face even appeared to be a slightly different shape, due to some cleverly (albeit quickly) applied make-up.

As she washed her hands, Shepard looked herself over critically in the bathroom mirror, and was grudgingly impressed at the transformation.

_Well... thank you, Tom._

She'd planned her excursion carefully: a prepaid bill for eggs, toast, coffee, and fruit. A fifteen minute change into Eilís, in their bathroom. A careful exit and equally-careful stroll southwards, culminating with Moran's arrival at her employer's bank at 08:15. This timing was purposeful: close enough to the bank's open as to secure swift assistance, not so close as to arouse suspicion.

Only after she'd met and charmed the account manager did Shepard signal EDI to wipe Sinclair's off-world accounts and scatter the credits to the four winds. A sizeable chunk went into the primary holding, credits she was about to withdraw onto a chit before closing the account. EDI also dumped about twenty million credits into a variety of dummy accounts (to launder it), with instructions to transfer a certain sum (in approximately an hour) into the Mount Ivy lawyer's account, and the (rather large) balance to one of Kane's corporate accounts.

It was swift, brutal, efficient... and harder to trace because there was no record of Eilís Moran, corporate secretary, being much of anyone. Kane had always held onto the documents proving his sister existed; all she'd needed to do was forge a few electronic signatures (with EDI's help) stating that Ms. Moran worked for JE Products, Inc... a newly-acquired subsidiary of Crimson Funding International.

\--

Ms. Eilís Moran closed the account, thanked the branch manager for his trouble, and refused an escort back to her office.

_Christ... you'd think I still did this every other day._

Eliza stayed Moran until she was nearly to the Meatpacking district. She avoided getting her face on vid on her way into the transport station, boarded a ground transport train, and turned herself back into Commander Shepard in the restroom. The Hero of Elysium got off the train a few blocks north of The Chameleon, and ostentatiously shopped on camera (using her old Alliance chit) for a couple hours. Finally, she took another transport to the park, where she reconnoitered with Osorio at 11:00 hours. They nonchalantly strolled westwards together, into North Heights.

And the territory of The Reds.

\--

**From: Eilís Moran (e_moran@admin.JE_Products_Inc.com)  
Bcc: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
To: Adam L. Wheelan (adam_wheelan@agents.Mount_Ivy_RE.com)  
Date: 01.07.2186. 09:40 EST  
Subject: payment  
Message: The balance of credits were just transferred to your account, as per our discussion. This should complete the purchase. I will be sending my administrative assistant Upstate to collect and file the necessary documents later today.**

**Sorry I could not be there in person. Thank you for your assistance.**

**~E. Moran.**

\--

The Leprechaun's Rest was a homey-looking Irish pub in a very old stone building by the riverside. The large bay window in the front possessed the warped look of ancient glass, painted over with the name of the restaurant. Inside, numerous bar stools jockeyed for room with arm chairs. The predominant color was Kelly green.

Eliza found the decor just the slightest bit over-blown.

_Though... it's also probably quite effective at pulling in tourists._

She stepped inside, eyes adjusting far more quickly than Robert's to the dim interior... and there he was.

_Kane._

He barely looked different, which seemed impossible after over a decade. He was still tall, lithe, blond, bearded, and exceedingly handsome. He still _radiated_ biotic power to her Other senses; the energy signature was the same.

"Eilís-" His voice caught, broke - Eliza hoped Osorio didn't catch the difference in the name. She shook her head at her brother, minutely but sharply, trying to remind him she couldn't be connected to that name right now.

Something passed over his face, and he sobered. "Shepard. You... you look beautiful, as always. We've... missed you." And he took the three long strides that would have enabled him to wrap both arms around her, had she not casually side-stepped him.

_No. If you do, I'll cry. And that is NOT what today is about._

"Kane," she nodded briskly. "We... need a favor." She turned to Robert and gestured. "This is Major Robert Osorio, my... well... parole officer." She smiled reassuringly at the Infiltrator as he stepped forward and held out a hand to Kane. The biotic took it, shook it, but his eyes kept sliding to Eliza.

"Oh?"

She shrugged her shoulders, very slightly. "Maybe... a couple favors."

The blond man's brows rose and he sighed. "I suppose... I should have known."

\--

_I really need one of Kane's medical techs to take out the fucking tracker while I'm here. I can keep the damn thing in my bra._

The tracker had been the ONE tiny hole in her plan to defraud Sinclair of millions of credits with impunity. EDI had calculated there was a mere 5.72% chance that anyone at either Headquarters would be checking her tracker so consistently as to realize that it had gone south instead of north for thirty minutes, between 08:00 and 08:30. The difference in location was a matter of less than six blocks and one Avenue. And, since EDI was able to get into the system nearly at will, the record of said derivation had already been erased.

Still, the tracker had IRKED her for so long that the temptation to have it GONE was strong.

_It'd be stupid to have them do it while Robert is with me. But I should ask now._

"So... that's our story. Everything you saw in the more sensational vids is true. I _did_ blow up the relay, stopping the invasion for a time, but the Reapers are still on their way. You need to trust me, Kane - they aren't like any enemy the human race has faced before." She picked at the remains of her Caesar salad, trying to both spear a crouton and keep her eyes on her brother. "We need to discuss how New York City should prepare for it. 'We' meaning not only you and I, but the Sages and Azures as well."

Kane sucked in a slow breath, and - shockingly - merely nodded. "I suppose, when I saw you had arrived in town and went straight to the Point, I assumed one of two things: that the Alliance was taking you seriously enough to have you brief their various forces... or they had given you an ill-advised make-work assignment to get you out of Vancouver."

Shepard snorted angrily, pushing her plate away. "That second thing."

The biotic ran his hands through his hair, a gesture that reminded Eliza suddenly, viscerally, of James.

_I need to remember to email him back, tonight._

"This is going to get expensive." His gaze locked on hers. "Is that why-" He stopped, suddenly, and arched a brow, tilting his head almost imperceptibly at Osorio.

"Hell, yeah, it's gonna be expensive." She slid one of the pastries off the dessert tray onto a small plate and began picking it to pieces with her fork. "And the credits need to be used _wisely_. Most important is to buy off the Sages. Their tech will be invaluable for tracking these things, and anyone who chooses to fight and forage will _need_ Mordin's antidote. That was the attachment I sent you, but you'll have to have a lab make it." She sighed. "It's going to be Armageddon-level horrifying, Kane. You won't survive without the Sages, but your chances will go WAY up if you get access to the Azure's weapon stores."

Kane ground his teeth together; Shepard fancied she could hear them clash. "I don't want to work with the Blue Suns unless we _absolutely_ have to," he muttered. "If you tell me we need more weapons, I can get more weapons." He squared his shoulders, finally appearing that decade older. "Money buys anything."

_Yeah. Yeah... I guess it does._

\-- 

In the hour it took Shepard to actually eat her lunch, Osorio had made the requisite trip to the restroom that allowed her to fiercely pull Kane close, just for a few seconds, and then to whisper what she needed _today_. He agreed to arrange for a tech to remove her tracker that afternoon (if she could lose Robert), and for a female Reds member to run her documents.

She met and approved of Regan, slipping her the documents, a note, and half payment for her services. The note advised the young woman that her cover was Moran's executive assistant, and contained a description of Eilís Moran (to use if needed), the name of the lawyer, the address... and Shepard's warning that she would know nearly instantly when the documents got filed. Regan would get the balance of her money once that occurred.

\--

The young woman was as efficient as Kane had promised. Barely an hour later, Shepard got an IM from EDI.

**_EDI: Shepard, I hacked into Mount Ivy RE's systems and the NorthEast mainframe in anticipation of Ms. Regan West's arrival. Your documents were filed 41s ago. In the normal course of business, such documents take between 20m and 60m to populate to the regional mainframe. I will inform you when this event occurs, but it would be safe to assume the deed is done._ **  
**SHEP: EDI, did you just... use a pun?**  
**_EDI:Yes, Shepard. I am attempting to learn humor. I believe a more consistent response to his humorous anecdotes will greatly improve Jeff's quality of life. The newest version of my operating system contains several thousand databases of jokes and puns._ **  
**SHEP: that's great, EDI**  
**_EDI: Knock, knock, Shepard._ **  
**SHEP: not now EDI**

\--

Friday brought a renewal of their efforts at Headquarters. And a LOT of email.

 _Sleeping their way around the Consulates, huh?_ Shepard gritted her teeth. _Guess Kaidan finally got over whatever was holding him back._

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Armando-Owen Bailey (a_owen_bailey@c-sec.net)  
Cc: Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil), Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 02.07.2186. 10:50 MST  
Subject: Re: do you rain trouble wherever you go?  
Message: yes, apparently i do. and yes, that looks like Reaper tech. get rid of it.**

**~Shepard**

\--

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Armando-Owen Bailey (a_owen_bailey@c-sec.net)  
Cc: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil), Admiral David Anderson (d_anderson@nav.alliance.mil),  
Date: 02.07.2186. 11:01 MST  
Subject: Re: Re: do you rain trouble wherever you go?  
Message: Place under a force field immediately. Send under heavy guard to Dr. Garret Bryson; his laboratory is on the Presidium. He has already been alerted. **

**~Admiral Steven Hackett**

\--

**From: Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 02.07.2186. 11:58 MST  
Subject: It's been hectic, yes  
Message: I can't really talk a lot about what's going on at AE Headquarters, but at least I haven't Thrown anyone off a cliff yet. **

**Of course, the day's still young.**

**Osorio and I have been working basically non-stop on a template that can be adapted to fit the reserves of each city, and it's been fairly frustrating. We escaped into Manhattan for some shopping and lunch yesterday, and managed to re-connect with my family for a bit, which was nice.**

**Yes, you should eat the green beans. Vegetables are good for you.**

**Btw, I did finish the bruja novel. You were right. It had a happy ending.**

**~Shepard.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! it's the first 'skip around, advance the plot' Chapter, and it had a lot of stage to set. not sure i'm happy with it yet, but i'll likely tinker with it a bit over the weekend as i try to decide whose viewpoint to prioritize next; i have at least two thoughts about who i want to have the last word (and the first word in _The War Room_ ), and that's been slowing me down, too. i may have unintentionally scrapped my initial idea for how POV will flow through the next story.
> 
> obviously, there has been a lot of 'creative canon-ing' in the chapter, by sheer want of Bioware describing ANYTHING of how the Alliance actually works 'Earth-wide'. i tried to create an organizational chart that made some modicum of sense to me, with a united Earth but disparate local governments and so impacts on how regional forces would react, but honestly - a little more clarity to the canon would have been nice. 
> 
> ah, well. shout out if you figure out what Eliza is buying, and why. :D
> 
> also, YAY PUNS.


	13. Shuttle Bay: The Cargo Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke: "Boy, it's lucky you had these compartments."  
> Han Solo: "I use them for smuggling. I never thought I'd be smuggling myself in 'em."  
> ~ Star Wars IV.

Cortez watched Vega grow quiet as June turned into July. Eventually, it became impossible to observe and not intervene.

He had tried creating little problems on the _Normandy_ that he knew James could fix. The huge man did the repair and moved on, remaining untouched - and frighteningly humorless. Cortez practiced small quips that he thought might _provoke_ Vega into a verbal spar, but received (at _most_ ) faint smiles. Then he'd taken the other man out to a bar... and watched his friend grow increasingly morose as the evening wore on. He nearly started another brawl, and capped off the night by drinking himself into a stupor.

As July evolved into August, Steve began to suspect his friend was _actually_ depressed. It was uncanny, it was wrong, and Cortez still didn't know what to do.

\--

It was the fourth of August, just another Wednesday working on board the Normandy, when the shuttle pilot finally snapped.

"I've had enough. Come down here."

Vega, perched on top of the intricate scaffolding he'd been installing for the last two weeks, barely spared Cortez a glance as he fitted another pipe. "Esteban, I'm almost _done_ up here. What do you _want_?"

"I want to _talk_. **Now.** "

James peered over the edge of the platform with a pronounced frown, and then sighed loudly. Rather than descending the installed ladder, he went belly-flat on the platform, grasped the edge, lowered himself until he was hanging, and then dropped the last meter to the deck. A loud banging crash resounded through the hangar. 

_Show-off._

"I'm down. _What_ do you want?"

" **Sit**."

James arched a brow, mock-saluted his friend (and superior by ONE grade) and backed up until his rear end hit the workbench underneath the scaffolding. He heaved himself up onto it with a snort.

"I'm sat. Spill. What did I do wrong _now_?"

Steve gritted his teeth. "It's what your _not_ doing that's wrong. You're not talking, not cracking wise, not working out - it's like aliens abducted the real Vega and left a robot in his place."

James snorted again. "I go for runs. I lift at home. Maybe I've been a little quiet while I'm here, Esteban, but doesn't mean I'm not OK; it means I'm _concentrating_ on the _work_."

Cortez grimaced and pulled one of the chairs he'd arranged for this discussion forward, facing away from the workbench. He straddled it, feeding the atmosphere of informality as best he could. "Look, I _want_ that to be true, but it ceased to be functional reality when we went to Half Moon and you nearly ended up in jail again." The darker-skinned man speared Vega with his cornflower blue eyes. "The person who needs to spill here is _you_. What the hell is the matter?"

Pain flickered on Vega's face, and his lips parted slightly.

For all of twenty seconds, Steve thought he had him; he waited for James to tell him what the hell had happened with Shepard. It _HAD_ to have been Shepard, Cortez reasoned, because she'd been sent away on a Sunday, and three days later - when he saw James at work - the younger man's light had just... disappeared.

But he'd either over-estimated his own persuasive power, or under-estimated Vega's commitment to evasion.

" _Ni maiz_ , Esteban," Vega hopped down off the workbench, turned around, jumped up, and grabbed the edge of the scaffolding. He pulled himself up until he could wrap a leg around the upper decking. He heaved, attempting to swing onto the platform. It _almost_ worked... then the big man snorted and let go, landing on the balls of his feet with a string of Spanish curses that **began** with " _¡A la chingada!_ " and got progressively worse. Cortez winced. James pivoted and grabbed the ladder, and if he'd been just the slightest bit more aggressive, he might have pulled it off the scaffold; nothing had been welded yet.

"Vega-"

" _¡No chingues!_ , Esteban. I want to finish this _pendejo_ storage platform today."

Cortez bit his tongue. _On to Plan B._

\--

While James had almost never talked about Shepard, he'd occasionally discussed the others on her protective detail. It had been Vega's early opinion that Steve would have gotten on quite well with both of them, though that opinion had been somewhat tempered by events. It had been several weeks since James had mentioned _either_ of them.

The engineer - Major Osorio - had been shipped out with the former Commander. Steve tried to remember; they were likely in... what, Atlanta by now? Of course, if he ended up needing to message Osorio, he might as well message Shepard herself. The end result would almost certainly be the same.

 _That wouldn't be awkward AT ALL_.

But the other...

Cortez hadn't forgotten the second time James had joined him on board the _Normandy_. Steve had known _then_ that something was up with Shepard, and James had distracted him by talking about the messy apartment, the rough neighborhood, and their cover story. The pilot had agreed, gently mocking the 'slum' in which he'd had to land his precious shuttle. Vega had arched that damnable eyebrow and described how well _some_ of the team had managed to fit in: how weaselly paper-pusher Wilcott had utterly transformed into the neighborhood _hoodlum_ , Zavala.

Cortez remembered commenting that it was unbelievable someone could so completely pretend to be a different person, and his friend had quietly disclosed that Tom was a member of Spec Ops, _Psi Division._

Maybe it was faulty logic to assume PsiOps would have information on Shepard just because she was a famous biotic officer, but Steve didn't think so. And he figured a _biotic spy_ , who'd lived next door to Shepard and Vega for _weeks_ , would almost certainly have information on their relationship. 

\--

**From: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
Date: 04.08.2186. 08:11 MST  
Subject: Vega  
Message: I had Joker find your email for me in case my interrogation went south. And here we are.**

**I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Steve Cortez, and I served on Fehl Prime with James Vega. Currently (as in, as I type this) he and I are working on outfitting the Normandy's shuttle bay with additional cargo space.**

**The problem is that I haven't heard one bad joke about 'pipe-fitting' the entire time James has been assembling the scaffolding. Last month, there were no stupid cracks about 'big guns' or the purchasing thereof. Next to no workouts on the makeshift gym he installed down here _or_ faux flirtatious comments about watching him work out.**

****

****

**Something is dreadfully wrong. It hasn't been this wrong since Fehl Prime. I need you to tell me what the hell happened with Shepard. And - if YOU have any ideas as to how to snap him out of it, I'm all ears. I've tried everything that seemed to help last time.**

**Steve**

**PS: Don't recommend alcohol. That went particularly badly.**

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 04.08.2186. 18:45 MST  
Subject: Re: Vega  
Message: Wow. You have the luck of the angels, Lt. Cortez. I hadn't checked this email in almost two weeks, until _just_ this evening. At least now I _can_ check it more regularly, and have an _actual_ conversation. But first, I have some questions:**

**What happened on Fehl Prime that caused this sort of withdrawl before? What finally snapped him out of it? When you say you're concerned, _why_ are you concerned? How long has it been going on?**

**Do you know if he's heard from Shepard? I found out through channels that she had all her military credentials pulled again at the beginning of July, so there's that. She probably has a new 'official' email address, but I have no idea what it is. I could find out, though. I DO know that she has at least one UNofficial (and likely untraceable) email address, and I'm fairly certain Vega has it. Given all that, I would guess that he either (a) has not heard from her, or (b) heard something from her he didn't like.**

**If it's the latter, well... you know how it goes when you have complicated feelings for someone and they beat feet? I mean - most people have had that experience at some point. Not that Shepard had any _choice_ in the matter, but Vega hasn't always been logical about her. In the same vein, if he tried to contact her at her .mil address and his messages started bouncing, is he stubborn enough to have NOT tried her unofficial contact? Too stubborn to reach out through Robert Osorio?**

**Your answers to all those questions will inform my advice, but my first suggestion is to swipe his omni-tool and check his message stack.**

**~Tom**

\--

**From: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
Date: 06.08.2186. 08:26 MST  
Subject: I have very few answers.  
Message: I've had relationships end abruptly. I understand your point.**

**He never takes off his omni-tool, so I don't understand how you expect me to snag it. On a whim, I asked the ship's virtual intelligence, EDI, how _she_ thought I should go about reading Vega's messages, and she offered to talk me through requesting a warrant to download all of his personal communications directly from Command. That _clearly_ seems like overkill.**

**I can't discuss Fehl Prime; much of it is still classified. If you have a way to access our personnel files, it will be there. Suffice to say our mission didn't go smoothly, and Vega felt responsible. As to how he reacted? There's more than one drinking binge and resultant bar fight under his belt.**

**Sadly, I think what finally snapped him out of it was being chosen by Admiral Anderson to secure Shepard's release from prison and watch over her. _Anderson_ was the one that went to Omega, kept James from being tossed into prison, and ordered him to get his act together. _For Shepard._**

**I can't really use that excuse, given she's _gone._ **

**Also, his work hasn't suffered; he's as efficient as ever. He's just horribly quiet and humorless. Honestly, some Commanders might see it as an _improvement_. It's not, though.**

**Steve**

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 09.08.2186. 20:19 MST  
Subject: Advice.UUE  
Message: EDI has the key.**

**{attachment: Advice.UUE}**

\--

Cortez pondered the file for a few seconds before deciding he didn't really have a choice about trusting the ship's mainframe with whatever information (so sensitive Tom had decided to encrypt it) the email contained.

"EDI?"

From the console in front of him, Steve heard the feminine purr, "Yes, Lieutenaunt Cortez?"

The dark-skinned man swallowed. _In for a penny..._ "The sender of this message seems to think you might possess the correct decryption key for it."

"If you will allow me to access your omni-tool, Lieutenant, I will be happy to assist you."

Steve balked. "No offense, EDI, but I'd rather send just the email to you, have you decrypt it, and send it back. Does that work?"

The board lit up with several lights that Cortez had long ago come to believe did _nothing_... except express EDI's annoyance at his attempts to circumvent her. 

When the voice came, it was stilted. "Processing, Lieutenant Cortez."

Yep, annoyed. Though HOW a VI could _be_ annoyed was a mystery for another day. Or maybe he was just going crazy. That was possible, too.

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psiops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 09.08.2186. 20:19 MST  
Subject: Advice.UUE  
Message: EDI has the key.**

**OK, here goes:**

**I DID find a way to access the Fehl Prime records, though it involved payback I hadn't expected to incur for some time; you (and Vega) OWE ME BIGTIME. Since we were already so far out on that particular Alliance limb, I prodded my hacker friend to get me into Vega's messages as well. Here's my take, given my quick (and admittedly one-sided) perusal of his correspondence (and the intel I already had).**

**First off (though I'm not sure why I'm sharing it, you probably shouldn't repeat it, and I'm obviously going to encrypt this file), Shepard is currently insanely busy whipping several of Earth's largest organized crime syndicates into action against the Reapers. This is because (reading between the lines) she has largely given up on the Alliance taking her seriously.**

**Shepard and Vega DID finally make contact through her new .org email address, halfway through July, when Vega broke down and sent a message to the anon account. But during those two weeks of silence, he drafted emails to me, to Osorio, AND to Liara T'Soni. He asked for advice in ALL of them (in one way or another) but he also never _sent_ any of them. Suffice to say, his Drafts folder is a pretty sad read, and I won't copy it here because _yeesh._**

**Once they reconnected, it becomes clear (from his quoted passages of _her_ emails) how _dire_ our planetary situation is in Shepard's estimation. For the last three weeks, her infrequent emails have been rushed, scattered work missives; any hint of affection Vega sends out (and I suppose you'd have to be paying attention to see it, but it's there) is being shunted aside by her frenetic distraction.**

**What you have on your hands is someone who twisted himself inside-out to save someone, who is in turn twisting herself inside-out to save _everyone_. He's too blinded by his feelings to realize she's doing exactly what she needs to be doing right now. She's too blinded by what she's doing to see how much he could use reassurance and genuine emotion.**

**You're not going to change Shepard (in my opinion, it would be a mistake to even try right now) but you MIGHT get through to James.**

**My suggestion is that you mirror her dismay back at him. It will only work if he believes you: you're going to have to come up with a source of information that isn't me. Joker and EDI maybe; from what Osorio said, I believe Shepard is in regular communication with them. You repeating the same concerns that inform every email he gets from her might actually force him to focus on the bigger picture. Ideally you should get Joker to do it as well.**

**He needs to stop feeling sorry about what he lost, and start worrying about what we _all_ might lose.**

**I'll drop him another message at some point, to check in, but he never responded to my last email, so I've hesitated to try again.**

**Good luck,**

**~Tom**

\--

"EDI?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"You kept a copy of that email, right?"

"I did. Would you like it deleted?"

"No." Cortez pondered, sighed, decided. _In for a penny..._ "Forward it to Joker."

\--

**From: Lt. Jeff 'Joker' Moreau (j_moreau@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: 09.08.2186. 23:04 MST  
Subject: Re: Fwd: Advice.UUE  
Message: Count me in.**

\--

A few days more had passed before he and Vega were both back on board the _Normandy_. It was just another Wednesday... except there was a plan.

Steve had never before seen the _Normandy_ 's erstwhile pilot leave the Bridge, but as he glanced toward the opening elevator and saw Joker enter the Shuttle Bay, he tried his best to appear prosaic about the development. Jeff still had soldiers escorting him to and from dry dock, but the pilot - having been officially 'cleared' of non-existent treason charges - was no longer being tailed by an Alliance shadow. He walked out of the lift slowly, crossed the room carefully, and grabbed one of the chairs they'd stowed out of the way.

"Oi, Cortez. Vega." He gingerly sat down.

"Hey, Joker!" From his position behind one of the computer banks, Cortez flashed a smile and called out a greeting. He'd been quietly consulting with EDI as to how he could best use the Normandy's stealth systems while piloting the Kodiak in different combat and non-combat situations. Between them, they'd begun programming four default launch sequences into the mainframe. In addition to making quick getaways easier, it made him feel more secure to have the auto-pilot updated in case anything happened to him, and EDI had agreed it was a good precaution

Vega, working on cleaning and repairing yet another set of Alliance armor over at his station, looked over his shoulder briefly and nodded. "Joker."

The pilot looked at Cortez and raised his eyebrows. Steve exhaled sharply and nodded slightly. Joker responded by rolling his eyes, as if to say "Shit, you weren't kidding."

_No, I wasn't._

"So, scuttlebutt from the top is that your Kodiak will soon have a girlfriend. We're not getting the Hammerhead back anytime soon." Joker cracked a grin. "I know you're _heartbroken_."

Steve snorted. It was an odd segue, but he understood where Joker was going, and it made sense that two pilots would be discussing shuttles. " _Devastated._ I assume it's still the shielding issue?"

"The fact that they tear like wet tissue paper when an enemy so much as looks at them funny? Yeah. Having seen the kind of firepower we'll be up against, and a bunch of the invasion scenario statistics Command is trying to bury, I think they're wise to outfit the flagships with dual Kodiaks. It's damn inconvenient to everyone left aboard when the landing party gets blow to bits trying to escape a planet. Looks kind of bad in the vids, too."

_**Nice.** _

Cortez snorted out a chuckle, and then waited... trying not to let the silence stretch into an obvious pause that was begging for Vega to fill it. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. James was evidently hungry for news.

"What have you seen that I haven't, Joker?" The big man was walking out from under the scaffolding, wiping his hands with a rag.

"Oh, well, Shepard _might_ have dropped me a copy of their newest battle sims last night. Osorio programmed them with data from the dogfight against Sovereign when we went up against Saren. Everything **I** had got blown up with the SR-1, but she _finally_ managed to get C-Sec and the Ascension to cough up their records." Joker spun a bit on the folding chair to face James. "I spent the morning watching a thousand Sovereigns beat the ever-living _shit_ out of Earth. **Then** I watched EDI's simulations, tweaked with data I acquired from... well... somewhere else." Joker rubbed his jaw. "THEN - once I stopped crying and shaking - I sent EDI's new sims back to Shepard."

Steve winced. "Fun morning."

The pilot slumped over. "An understatement."

James was glowering. "I want to see them, Joker."

Joker gingerly levered himself up off the chair. As he turned, still a bit bent over, he winked at Steve.

"EDI can pull them up for you. I probably should get back up to the Bridge. Don't be surprised if I turn up here once in a while, though. It's nice to take a little look around the rest of the ship. Just in case. Every day could be our last, you know." He sighed, straightening, and Cortez got the feeling he wasn't acting anymore. "This one's gonna hurt, kids."

Steve watched the pilot hobble off with dread in his heart, but James turned to the console in front of them and said "EDI? Could you send all the sims down here? Labelled with the datasets, if possible."

"Done, Lieutenant Vega."

"Thank you, EDI."

\--

James seemed to slowly get better as August flipped over into September. He wasn't back to normal, Steve knew, but it was as close as he was likely to get before the rest of the crew began arriving.

It was time.

\--

"So... I hear Anderson will be taking a tour soon." Cortez stayed facing the console he'd been updating, aware that he'd visibly winced at his own lack of subtlety.

Vega paused in his task of cataloguing, moving, and stacking crates. "Oh? When?"

"Any day now. Maybe even today."

The big man nodded thoughtfully. "Armory is ready. I mean, we could always use better guns and more munitions. But the weapon mod station is perfect; the firing range was a great addition, and damn useful. I'm impressed at the new armor they sent over." Vega glanced around the huge space. "And we managed to find room for a year's worth of supplies without sacrificing the flight deck. I can't see he'll find anything to disapprove of. We got a ton of work done in two months."

Cortez took a deliberate breath. "That begs the question, though... do you _want_ to be done?"

James started in surprise. Hazel eyes narrowed as they met and held Steve's gaze. "Should I?"

Steve looked at his friend steadily. "No. You should accept the position of XO when the Admiral offers it, and stay."

Vega swallowed. His eyes grew distant, almost as though he was seeing or hearing something - or some _one_ \- else. After a brief pause, he nodded again.

"Yeah... I guess I should." His mouth quirked - not much, but it was the first smile Cortez had seen since Shepard left Vancouver. "Thanks, Esteban."

"Any time, Mr. Vega. Any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry these are taking a lot longer! i'm hoping to have _The Passage_ finished in a couple weeks, though. i JUST made the decision to replay ME 1 and 2 with this Shepard in order to have a game ready to import into ME3 (rather than simply gib a save with the editor). the replay will add time before starting the next fic, but since i've been considering using November (NaNoWriMo) to work on one of my own original projects, the timing should match up. it would mean starting _The War Room_ in December.
> 
> or, i may flake entirely because it's an insane writing schedule. we'll see. :D
> 
> this section describes modifications found in the game while using EGM (Expanded Galaxy Map) mod. i can't recommend this mod highly enough; it adds a depth to the _Normandy_ experience that's hard to tally in mere extra missions and 'War Table'-like content.
> 
> Steve's crack about how _some_ Commanders might prefer Vega "quiet and efficient" was inspired by an episode of Split the Veil (a Youtube series), their breakdown/grading of Mass Effect 3 companions, and general disparagement (did either of you READ the backstory stuff?) of the 'disrespectful' James Vega.
> 
> Spanish:  
> Ni maiz ~ Not gonna happen  
> ¡A la chingada! ~ Fuck it  
> ¡No chingues! ~ Stop screwing with me  
> pendejo ~ fucking


	14. Shuttle Bay: The Weapon Modification Terminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I say we take off, nuke the site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure."
> 
> ~ Aliens

Robert had never _actually_ seen the transmogrification spikes at work, and during the last half-hour he had begun to pray he never would. Listening to Shepard verbally flay the highest-ranking General in AllianceSouth had made him want to grab his kids, rig a bunch of explosives, and hide underground until the war was over.

Which was the very thing Shepard was advising the _civilian_ population to do... and the very last thing the South seemed to want to hear.

"General..." Osorio winced as Shepard softened and slowed her voice until it was the same tone she'd use with a small child. " _Try_ to follow along. Most humans who do not escape the Reaper forces will **become** Reaper forces. The only way the human race survives long enough to _make it_ to an assault on the Reapers themselves is if enough humans _escape_ their ground troops. All of the even _semi_ -optimistic force projections are _based_ on keeping civilians _out_ of the fight if they are likely to end up being transformed."

The General had paused mid-bluster. Osorio recognized the face of a man who was simply _overwhelmed_ by everything he'd seen, heard, and read in the past few days. Shepard had nearly broken him.

Robert reached out and unobtrusively poked Eliza in the hip, their signal for 'let me have a go at him.' The long dark red-blond hair swung in a wide circle as she pivoted and speared him with a glance. Osorio met that glance with a careful nod, standing up. Shepard sighed loudly, nodded curtly, and took Robert's chair as he slid out from behind the table.

"General," Osorio began, "do you agree with Shepard that keeping civilians who won't be _effective_ fighters out of harm's way is a good idea?"

The older Marine - stocky, yet still muscular - had obviously taken personal affront to Shepard's dismissal of the fighting prowess of the South. Still, the man paused long enough to consider Robert's pristine uniform (and his conspicuous commendations) before cautiously replying "Of course, Major."

"Good. So you understand that the Com-" Robert stopped himself (as he'd had to _many_ times on this trip) and quickly substituted " _Shepard's_ analysis is valid. I have not _personally_ witnessed the processes by which the Reaper forces are made, but I have reviewed the footage from Eden Prime, the Citadel, and Horizon. I believe you have as well. While I agree that having bunkers available for a quarter of your population is a considerable demand on your resources, the Com- _Shepard_ is correct: for Atlanta to survive an assault of a hundred thousand ground troops for even a week, five of the Reapers must die for every ten humans. If you fall behind by more than half, the calculations are clear: you will be overrun."

The General's face crumpled. Osorio had seen that look on several faces in the past months, yet this man's reaction felt like more than disappearing hope. In the South, every farmer still had a firearm; apparently many civilians had _expected_ to join this war (perhaps were perversely looking forward to it, though Robert found that impossibly naive). Shepard and Osorio trying to convince Command that the survival of the human race depended on delaying ground confrontations as long as possible was evoking _disappointment_ here; it went against every fiber of the South's being.

 _Well, I can give him back that hope._ "While it is true that - by the numbers - most densely-populated cities will be better off stocking food and saving the fighting for Alliance troops at the outset, we _do_ foresee a time in which your untrained civilians will be fighting. Once the initial - likely massive - air assault is over, the field will alter significantly in ways that we have not yet been able to model. But it will almost certainly involve a protracted guerilla war the likes of which this continent has never seen. You will need people alive to fight it."

When he put it that way - not that the armed populace _could not_ fight, but that they needed to survive until the fight _meant_ something - the projected numbers appeared to make more sense to the grizzled Army veteran. The General re-bent his head over the table, and Robert renewed the discussion over the plans to open the massive tunnel system under the university and hospitals, and connect them up. Above the engineering schematics, Osorio's eyes met Shepard's. She nodded, smiling ruefully.

_De nada, Shepard._

\--

In this way, they tag-teamed their way around the country, taking small victories where they could.

It had turned out to be nigh impossible for Shepard to convince the NorthEast Alliance Generals that transport of the civilian populations of New York and Boston (bunkering in the Catskills/Appalachian range) was their best option. Only the underground agitating of the Reds and other gangs had made much of a dent in the lack of preparation for an invasion. Osorio knew Shepard was quite worried, but they had been forced to move on.

For his part, Robert mainly concentrated his persuasive efforts on fellow Infiltrators: veterans who _had_ fought wars with explosives, on various planets. He had an ever-increasing list of former Marines on tap who understood that any and all remote damage ordinates were on the table during such a conflict.

Osorio had gone from researching homemade explosive purchases in Vancouver... to **facilitating them** in other cities.

After the events at Princess Ave, Osorio had made joining the two preeminent trade organizations for ex-military members with his skillset a priority. IFF: Infiltrators for Freedom (or - as their members liked to call it, 'If and only if', a reference to the circumstances it would take to draw them back into explosives work) and the ironically-named BOOM (Battalion Officers' Ordnance Members). Now he used the contacts he'd made to funnel PETN and other dangerous compounds into the hands of those veterans he trusted to use them intelligently when the time came.

In this way, Osorio had met with a surprising amount of military success going _around_ upper brass. Though Shepard _also_ tended to defer to him in instances (like Atlanta) where it became obvious his rank, medals, or gender were going to give him an edge in the copious arguments.

Robert sighed. He didn't know what to think about the fact that he wouldn't be retiring this year.

\--

While Osorio had expected it to be otherwise, it had become more and more difficult to leave Vancouver after his wife's demise. He had expected to be impatient to leave a place with so very many bad memories, having been grounded through her cancer treatment. Praying for a miracle, ultimately being denied one.

That state of affairs - wanting to run away - hadn't materialized. Instead, his kids had _begged_ him to remain on Earth, to even consider retirement. So Robert had done so. He hadn't actually pulled the trigger on the Honorable Discharge, though Hackett made it clear in June that the paperwork was ready when Osorio was. Robert held off, telling himself it would only be for a _bit_ longer.

And then... Shepard.

Tomas, ranting to Osorio, had once described Elizabeth Shepard as an explosive ordinate in human form: prosaic, harmless-looking, useful (going by her service record), but once something set her off, all hell broke loose. From their first moments on Shepard's team, he and Tom had formed a plan that emphasized the _prevention_ of the conditions that would prompt such an explosion. They had both felt somewhat reassured that James Vega was, in essence, a bulwark between them and the fallout.

Or, at least _Robert_ had felt better. He remained somewhat in the dark as to Tom's true feelings about Shepard; whether the younger biotic's verbal misgivings had been real or feigned. Sometimes Robert wondered if even _Tom_ knew how he felt.

For his part, Osorio had been gratified that Steven Hackett had been a frequent presence during Shepard's confinement. Making his friendship with the Admiral obvious, that first day in the apartment, had laid a strong foundation of trust... despite her stint in the null cell. He wasn't a fool; holding Commander Elizabeth Shepard, attempting to win her friendship while keeping her a prisoner, _could_ have gone horribly wrong. But it didn't. And it was one of Robert's prouder moments that he'd been chosen to travel with her... as a friend.

She'd introduced him as 'my friend and colleague, Major Robert Osorio' several times now, and it never got old. The Savior of Elysium and the Citadel considered _him_ a 'colleague and friend.'

But it meant leaving Vancouver. His kids. His small home in the mountains. His research. It meant joining trade organizations with ties to terrorist activities. It meant remaining undercover. And there was no peace to be found with Shepard, no solace in the assignment. His days instead had the tang of desperation, of panic, of rushing around trying to convince people to prepare for a war that no one wanted to believe was coming.

Robert had never stopped missing his wife. Now he was also missing his kids. And worrying, every day, that he would never see them again.

\--

He talked to them via vid, of course, once a week. Emailed occasionally. He _had_ even gotten to meet with them, since Command dragged Shepard back to Vancouver every month like clockwork, for approximately twenty hours of debrief.

They had returned twice now. The first time they touched down in Vancouver, Robert video-chatted Emilia, found out she was on a twelve-hour nursing shift, and made do with fifteen minutes of gulping down coffee while complaining to his son about _loco_ travel schedules.

The second time, he had managed enough of a warning so as to enable Emilia and Mateo to join him for dinner on Saturday, between meetings. There was also enough time to cajole Shepard into joining them, to meet his kids (since she'd evidently missed meeting them while he was in a coma). He was not surprised to watch Matt be somewhat in awe of her, but he hadn't expected Emmi to be similarly dumbstruck; he wondered if his admonitions about Vega had hit home.

By the time their food was delivered to the table, the biotic had managed to draw his kids into talking about their respective professions; Eliza asked his daughter what it was like to work in a hospital, and his son about his ambition to see space. Once she broke the ice, the conversation flowed more naturally. It helped that Shepard was obviously interested in them, and hearing stories about their father.

But since the kids always talked about their mom, and were also (perhaps) fishing for information on their father's relationship with this new (to them) woman, Eliza inevitably heard all about Inez.

\--

"Did you ever consider telling me about her?"

Robert felt his back stiffen up, just slightly, as the shuttle doors closed behind them.

_I had not._

"I did not realize I should, Com-" Osorio stopped, sighed, and consciously forced himself to relax. This wasn't her vaunted third-degree; she had actually sounded concerned. "Shepard. It has been almost two years. I will not say that I am 'over' it, but I am better. For Emilia and Mateo, however, the road will be longer. They very much miss their mother."

The biotic's delicate face creased with sorrow as she rocked sideways into a jump seat. "That's obvious." She took a deep breath. "It's also obvious that they miss _you_. They worry about _you_."

Osorio also slid into a seat as the shuttle accelerated back to Headquarters. "They do. They were both quite insistent that I consider retirement after Inez passed. Something about how dangerous munitions work can be." Robert allowed a tiny wry smile to curl his mouth. Shepard gave a startled laugh, and he felt his smile widen. "Yes, they were very upset when I was detailed to your team after the Batarians issued that com-blast offering a bounty. Mateo correctly surmised I was chosen because naval intelligence discovered a rumor about a group attempting to smuggle in explosives." Osorio leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "I regret nothing, Shepard. But my children greatly resent the necessity of my being with you now." He opened his eyes again, and slid his gaze to meet hers. "And they _were_ quite upset with both of us several months ago, when I was bed-ridden."

He watched as Shepard hard-swallowed; her throat moved in an exaggerated motion. She seemed to be about to speak, only to stop herself, several times.

Osorio raised a hand. "It is not about Inez, Commander." As the shuttle touched down on the landing pad inside the Vancouver compound, Robert stood and held out a hand. When Shepard clasped it, he pulled her up. "I have stayed with you because _I believe you_. I believe that ancient intelligent machines have invaded our galaxy, and our only hope for survival is to prepare. I have even made arrangements for my children to relocate to our cabin up in the territorial forest. They do not want to go, but they will leave in a fortnight nonetheless."

Shepard visibly started in surprise as she released his hand. "There will be countless casualties, and your daughter is an exemplar nurse. Your _son_ is a serving officer. They'll leave?"

Osorio's mouth tightened. "Yes. The Alliance can have _me_ , Shepard, but not my _children_. Emmi has vacation coming from the hospital. And _Zorro de Plata_ has already arranged for Mateo to be granted leave." Robert turned to step off the shuttle, but paused and tilted his head to look at her briefly first. "You have an additional comment?"

He watched as the biotic slowly shook her head and hopped down to the ground behind him. "It's... I understand, Robert. Let's go."

\--

**From: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Jeff 'Joker' Moreau (j_moreau@nav.alliance.mil)  
Date: Date: 10.08.2186. 21:20 MST  
Subject: new simulations  
Message: Shepard and I have finally finished modelling several variations of an initial assault. All graphics and datasets are enclosed.**

**-R. Osorio**

**PS: I am sorry for the bad news.**

**{attachment: Sov V Ascension.xdoc}  
{attachment: Sov V Ascension.vid}  
{attachment: Sov V Cit.xdoc}  
{attachment: Sov V Cit.vid}**

\--

**From: Lt. Jeff 'Joker' Moreau (j_moreau@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil), Elizabeth Shepard (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
Date: Date: 11.08.2186. 10:05 MST  
Subject: EDI sims  
Message: Hell, I'm even sorrier to send you back worse projections than you sent out. Tell Shepard that these are EDI's programming, based on some extra intel we received.**

**~Joker**

**PS: I'll keep re-running them as additional datasets are made available. I don't expect them to get significantly better, though. When are you guys back next?**

**{attachment: SovHarb w Cerb mod V Vancouver.mul}  
{attachment: SovHarb w Cerb mod V Ascension.mul}  
{attachment: SovHarb w Cerb mod V Normandy.mul}**

\--

Their 'two weeks per city' pattern finally busted open while they were still attempting to convince the AllianceWest General in charge of Austin and Houston (as well as several other dense population clusters) to begin to transfer people out into the Texas countryside. They had seen his kids on the night of August twenty-first, and managed to grab breakfast with Mateo on Sunday before their atmo-shuttle's scheduled departure for Houston the following morning.

They were supposed to return to Vancouver on the eighteenth of September. Osorio - still concerned about the reports he'd been hearing regarding James' behavior - had already arranged for Vega to join them for dinner this time.

Then the news of gang unrest in L.A. began to hit the com boards. A day later, Osorio and Shepard received word that they were being diverted to AllianceSouthwest.

To avert a potential uprising.

\--

**From: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: Date: 18.09.2186. 12:10 MST  
Subject: Dinner tonight?  
Message: I know we were supposed to all be eating Thai food in Downside East tonight. Trust me, no matter what you have been hearing about matters in Los Angles, the reality is worse. I very much wish we were there with you.**

**Shepard has been amazing. Even though I can tell she is incredibly anxious and concerned that the Blue Suns have amassed too much power to be dissuaded, she continues to meet with various representatives of the factions. She may yet broker a peaceful solution to the power struggle overtaking this city.**

**It is clear that she is getting more frantic and desperate as the clock ticks down, but she is not alone.**

**The reason for this email is that I don't want us to miss our dinner simply because we are not in the same location. I have arranged for food to be delivered to our room at approximately 18:00 hours, and I would like you to join us via vid-comm. I know it is not the same as all going out to The Thai Palace, but it is something, no?**

**~R**

\--

**From: Ensign Mateo Osorio (m_osorio@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: Date: 18.09.2186. 14:04 MST  
Subject: just got my orders from Hackett  
Message: I'm very sorry, Dad. But no.**

**~Matt**

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: Date: 18.09.2186. 14:47 MST  
Subject: Re: Dinner tonight?  
Message: Sounds good. See you both then.**

**~J**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these are taking a lot longer, but part of the delay is some GOOD news (maybe?). i managed to play (and film) Mass Effect 1, then ported my world state into (and began playing) Mass Effect 2. both of these things had to happen before i got to play Mass Effect 3... and concurrently write _The War Room_.
> 
> there's a lot of extraneous (non-'ship) info in here about the world state that i really wish ME had allowed us to explore via a DLC or something. i mean, i get it, perhaps some of us would rather let the Earth crash and burn, as long as Shepard and Vega eventually hook up. i feel that.
> 
> the last Chapter of _The Passage_ will be Vega, to get everyone situated for the beginning of Mass Effect 3, so we'll finally get another glance into that squirrely head of his. i REALLY want/need to be done with this before NaNoWriMo begins (assuming i go through with it), so look for this fic to be finished by All Hallows.


	15. Shuttle Bay: The Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Someone's killed 100,000 people... we're almost going, "Well done! You killed 100,000 people? You must get up very early in the morning. I can't even get down the gym! Your diary must look odd: Get up in the morning, death, death, death, death, death, death, death – lunch - death, death, death - afternoon tea - death, death, death - quick shower…"_
> 
> ~ Eddie Izzard, Dressed to Kill

**From: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 20.09.2186 12:35 MST  
Subject: heard it's a done deal?  
Message: I hope congratulations are still in order, and you haven't done anything _stupido_. Like changing your mind and refusing it. **

**Reason for message: are you still on board, pounding sand again? If so, can you send me a copy of the current licensing list off the Proc terminal? Thanks!**

**Also, did you get around to asking anyone about officially relocating? And why your future quarters are jammed full of tech equipment? You're not going to end up sleeping on a cot in my Shuttle Bay, are you?**

**~Cortez**

\--

It wasn't much of a gym, James allowed. A set of second-hand free weights a guy in Central Supply scrounged up and delivered with the message: "Sorry about the prison mattress, mate." A pull-up bar he'd welded into the rest of the scaffolding. The old military duffel he'd stolen, joined to a second (even _older_ ) duffel bag, and filled with Pacific sand, had fashioned a punching bag heavy enough that he didn't fear knocking it over... unless he was _exceedingly_ pissed.

_Of course, here I am again, examining the guns and armor obsessively, and beating the **crap** out of this bag._

Vega caught himself fantasizing that he was sparring against Shepard at _least_ once a trip. This may have also been part of the reason he hadn't hit or kicked the bag hard enough to tip it over. Yet.

It was also part of the reason he usually showered on board, after.

_Resolver mi problema..._

Last night had probably been the worst disappointment yet, and that was saying something. To hear that she'd returned to Vancouver a couple months ago, for the first time, and he hadn't even known about it until almost a week later? Yeah, that had been bad enough that - when Esteban dragged him out to a bar the next weekend - he'd gotten shit-faced. And he MAY have insulted a half-dozen visiting military consultants. Though he hadn't been as close to a brawl as he suspected Cortez believed: he'd taken Anderson's warning to heart, on that score.

 _Still... poncy pendejo jerks_.

It had also been pretty bad to read how she'd come back in August and only found time to have dinner and breakfast with Osorio's kids. Not grab a drink with _him_.

But _last_ night they had planned to all have dinner together, and maybe he'd been looking forward to it a BIT more than he'd realized, given how _annoyed_ he was now. And he felt sheepishly _selfish_ about the fact that the _only_ thing making any of this palatable was how **drained** Shepard had appeared on vid-com last night. She'd been a ghost version of the woman he'd come to know at Princess Ave: pale, drawn, faint purple shadows under both eyes.

_Has she been sleeping at ALL? Eating?_

Osorio had been his normal laconic self, filling in for Shepard's silences and answering Vega's questions about the delicate negotiations taking place in L.A. with stoic calm. It was almost as if the current news-vids weren't so inflammatory that Vega had considered going AWOL and catching a shuttle ride down there three times this week alone. In fact, given the reputation of the gangs in Los Angeles, James had found Robert's optimism frankly _delusional_. But then Shepard spoke up... and he realized... _who_ was actually pulling the strings of this rebellion.

"James, it's... it's not exactly what it appears to be. I mean it IS-" She stopped, grimaced, and stretched her neck. "Look, don't worry about us. We have one goal now - to get the Alliance to mobilize the southern half of the continent. If that takes a gang war, well-" She stopped again, and he watched her jaw set into _very_ familiar lines. "You know me: Do Whatever is Necessary Shepard."

 _Yeah, I recognized The Face. It's the same one that told me its owner would_ absolutely _be willing to read an erotic novel to me, as long as I was willing to risk having to act it out afterward._

Vega went back to punching and kicking the sand bag with a loud sigh.

_Dammit, Shepard. When are you coming HOME?_

\--

_The shuttle was a mangled mass in his peripheral vision, and the Krogan he'd managed to take out with two head shots (one at a distance, and one - thankfully - just short of melee range) lay at his feet. A dark-haired man was also laying on the ground, holding his thigh and cursing a blue streak, in English. James did what he felt anyone else would do in the situation: he slammed the man's femur back into his hip socket._

_Toni screamed, obviously, and the pejorative stream issuing from his mouth became even more acidic. He was ordering Vega to leave with every other breath, and James finally told him to 'shut the fuck up', hoisted him on to his shoulder, and began to hobble-run as fast as he could, while still keeping an eye on the rest of the squad. They weren't retreating fast enough, and James began to be afraid they were all going to die, only it never quite happened. Somehow. A flash of red-blond hair to his right caught his eye, and he remembered... **somebody** was supposed to be here with him. Only... when he turned to see who had actually Thrown the other charging Krogan, he saw the handsome, laughing Essex, glowing with blue fire, on his flank._

_Something was wrong. Toni was still bouncing on his shoulder - swearing like an angry fishwife - but Vega knew the man was actually dead. He knew Essex was dead._

_But someone very important was **missing** in action._

\--

As he woke up, drenched in sweat, Vega realized the _continuous, conscious disappointment_ wasn't the worst part of this separation.

The _dreams_ were the worst.

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
Date: 13.07.2186. 23:21 MST  
Subject: Re: I'm sorry  
Message: Look, I don't know why all my messages have been returned unread, but if I did something, I wish you'd just let me know.**

**J**

\--

**From: Elizabeth Shepard, BMC (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 15.07.2186. 07:50 EST  
Subject: security protocols, Boston  
Message: I'm sorry, James. The Alliance locked me out of my old account (AGAIN) after I responded to a classified email and it flagged their security. Apparently I don't have the clearance to use that account any more. You can contact me here. Understand: everything sent to me here is _read and recorded._**

**Just got into Boston a couple days ago; everything in the NE corridor is an absolute fucking mess. Wish me luck.**

**~Shepard**

\--

_Vega watched, helplessly, as Treeya was dragged away by the Cerberus agent they should never have trusted. James knew the paralysis was temporary, that the antidote they'd concocted would take effect soon. He knew that - eventually - he would kill Messner for putting his hands on the Asari._

_His hands twitched, his feet shifted, and Vega was looking down at a closed stasis pod, in which rested the form of a tiny sleeping girl child. And he remembered. He knew that being able to move again couldn't alter how this ended._

_The creature, a huge hulking mass of twisted flesh and implants, was fighting a blond biotic just outside his firing range._

_James knew that the situation was a **mess** , that he was **too far away** to help. The blond was about to be fatally impaled, and would use a massive biotic explosion of life energy to char the life out of their enemy._

_There was nothing Vega could do to stop it._

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Elizabeth Shepard, BMC (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
Date: 24.07.2186. 07:50 MST  
Subject: when are you back?  
Message: today, right?**

**J**

\--

**From: Elizabeth Shepard, BMC (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 31.07.2186. 12:08 MST  
Subject: Re: when are you back again?  
Message: Just finished with Boston. I didn't see this message until a few days ago. It must have gotten buried in scroll. I didn't even leave the compound last weekend, James. I'm sorry.**

**This travel schedule is hellish. It would all be worth it... if only it felt like anyone in authority gave a damn.**

**~Shepard**

\--

_The Preatorian was hammering at the bunker, loud biotically-enhanced slams that shook the structure._

_It was only a matter of time before the structure **broke apart**._

_James looked around and took stock of his squad: bleeding and bruised from the fight, too shell-shocked to reliably maintain the dubious safety of their shelter._

_Strangely, he found himself YELLING at them, almost as if he was outside his body, watching himself do it. He wanted to tell the Other Him that the Marines were clearly exhausted, but he sensed The Other Vega would not listen to him right now. The Other Vega was far too concerned about survival to care that his diatribe was making everything worse._

_Kamille was gone. Once the creature actually broke in, James knew everyone would see exactly what had happened to their comrade, and Mason would attack in a frenzy, only to be cut down. Nicky would be next to die._

_It would continue to progress, and The Angry Vega would feel more and more guilty about his decision to fire the defense canons at half-strength. And it would only get worse when he had to-_

\--

Vega wrenched himself awake with a shudder, acutely aware of the irony of having comforted Shepard through many flashbacks and nightmares, only to be increasingly falling prey to his own. He slipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, a bit concerned that soon he'd be leaving Princess Ave (and the unlikely home he'd found there). As he sipped a glass of water, he couldn't help but wonder... if his sleep had degenerated THIS badly here, what the hell was he going to do once he shipped out? 

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Elizabeth Shepard, BMC (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
Date: 21.08.2186. 06:24 MST  
Subject: Take Two (URGENT)  
Message: today?**

**J**

\--

**From: Elizabeth Shepard, BMC (e_shepard@milconsultants.alliance.org)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 22.08.2186. 08:22 MST  
Subject: on shuttle  
Message: We had _one_ break yesterday, and I promised Robert I'd go with him and _finally_ meet his kids. We all caught a quick dinner just off-base.**

**The kids are still pretty pissed at me, btw.**

**NEXT trip. I swear. I'll talk to Osorio about it.**

**~Shepard**

\--

_James was weeping in his dream. Treeya was counseling him against trying to be some great hero, trying to convince him that sacrificing the small girl in the coffin-like pod had been the correct choice. Her eyes had gone the pitch-black of space, were threatening to swallow him alive._

_Vega couldn't, wouldn't, believe he had made the right decision._

_The **ragged** teddy bear at his feet mocked him, almost seemed to accuse him; he'd never be as good at rescuing people as Shepard. All those people dead, and - in the end - it hadn't really mattered. He was no protector, no commander, no father figure. Hell, look at the role model he'd had BEFORE Shepard._

_They were all **dead**._

\--

**From: Major Robert Osorio (r_l_osorio@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: Date: 18.09.2186. 15:05 MST  
Subject: Re: Re: Dinner tonight?  
Message: Shepard set up a private channel through a personal server. Just click the link in the attachment. I have examined her security; it is exemplary. We will be able to speak of recent events. **

**-Robert**

**{attachment: JE_Products.xdoc}**

\--

_James stumbled through the corridors of the Presidium, looking for someone. He hated it here. Everyone was ignoring him as if he didn't belong, and he agreed wholeheartedly with their assessment. Moreover, he couldn't - quite - remember **who** he was looking for. He just knew they should be here, somewhere._

_The hallway branched to the right, toward an open space, and Vega turned in that direction. Some part of him was hoping that light and sound meant that the person he was looking for would be waiting there._

_He nearly ran smack into Admiral David Anderson. The tall black man was dressed in ragged blue jeans and a dark hoodie: the same civilian clothes he'd worn at Princess Ave. Jarringly, he **was also** sipping a pale-green drink out of a delicate, fluted glass._

_"Admiral, I-" Vega could **not** figure out how he'd ended up crashing the man's shore leave. "I'm looking for someone. Do you know where she is?"_

_"That was FINE work you did back there, Vega. FINE work. I know it's never easy to choose between your squad and the mission, but you did **fine**. Now we need you to take over guard duty."_

_James felt his mouth fall open: shock, and indignation. He drew breath to argue, but did a double-take as Admiral Hackett walked up to join Anderson, wearing the thick sailor's coat he'd worn on the day he'd visited the apartment._

 _Hackett was chugging beer out of huge mug. As he drew even with Anderson, he swept out the arm holding the carafe in a reckless arc that sloshed ale all over the floor. In fact, some of the liquid hit Anderson; he failed to react._

_"It was damn fine work. You need to understand that sending a Special Forces soldier on this very important mission isn't a reflection on YOU, Vega. It means we feel that this particular asset is valuable enough to warrant it." Hackett turned away, sloshing liquid out of his mug again, but when he pivoted to face Vega the coat was gone; it had been replaced by dress blues. He wasn't holding an over-sized ceramic stein, but a bronze star. His face was grave._

_"Elizabeth Shepard is a powerful role model, but she's seen more death and destruction than most battalions, Lieutenant. It's not an easy life you're reaching for." The Admiral's face grew grave. "And you need to understand that she'll give up **everything** to win this war."_

For the dozenth time in September, Lieutenant James Vega _wrenched_ himself out of a dream, dripping with sweat and shaking. He looked around the dim Shuttle Bay, counting crates... in an effort to slow his heartbeat. 

_Still sad you're not a biotic, Vega? Least you didn't break anything._

\--

When his omni-tool chimed and his feed _finally_ displayed the news that Shepard's shuttle had touched down, Vega felt a weird, nervous shiver go through his body. He was momentarily paralyzed before shaking it off.

_No seas idiota, Vega. You're both back on base. Mics. Cameras. Smooth and professional._

When he realized his 'fast walk' had unthinkingly metamorphosed into 'near-run', James drew himself up short with a loud snort.

_REAL smooth._

Suddenly his omni-tool chimed again, this time with a request to video-chat. His heart began to beat faster, insisting _It's her._

It wasn't her. It was his C.O. 

"Lieutenant. Shepard just arrived at Shuttlepad D. I'd like you on base this afternoon, to smooth the way with upper brass. This will be her first debrief with the _entire_ Defense Committee since... they tossed her out." 

Vega very nearly rolled his eyes, but caught himself at the last second. "I'm already here, Sir." 

In the wavering hologram, Anderson's face turned mildly amused. "Are you? Well, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Give her time to get settled in: I gather getting out of L.A. wasn't a walk in the park. Go fetch her just before thirteen-hundred; that's when her session begins." 

Vega blinked. "Just her, Admiral? Not Major Osorio?" 

Anderson cleared his throat. "I gather the Major didn't return from L.A. He's been reassigned to the Fifth Fleet as of this morning. He's... visiting his son, and... meeting with Admiral Hackett." Admiral Anderson shook his head slightly. "Don't ask. Neither of us wants a piece of that, Lieutenant." His C.O. frowned. "Shepard's on her own recognizance until you get there; I told her to _sleep_ for a bit. I gather she hasn't been doing much of that." 

Vega blinked as the holo collapsed. Anderson's order to back off and _wait_ two hours rankled, but at least he could get a shower and shave. Put on his dress blues. Make a dinner reservation?

As far as not seeing Osorio... _I wonder what the hell happened?_

\--

In the end, he didn't make the reservation. He barely shaved. Anderson had contacted him a second time, forty minutes later, with a curt "Change of plans. They moved up her meeting. Fetch her _now_ , Lieutenant."

_¡A poco! He sounds stressed._

James considered pulling up a news feed or checking his messages to see if he'd missed a development, but in the end decided it didn't matter. He'd been looking for any excuse to get to Shepard.

He ran.

She was near the window, possibly had been looking out over the compound. She swung around at the sound of the door sliding open. He couldn't help himself; he saluted. Like an idiot. She was dressed in one of the black tank tops he recognized from the L.A. holo-call; exhausted eyes met his. 

_Dios_ , she looks tired. Beautiful, but **tired**. 

"Commander." 

Internally, he winced. _I sound like a pendejo jerk. I'm not even supposed to call her that._

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore, James." 

_Nailed it._

"Not supposed to salute you, either. We gotta go. The Defense Committee wants to see you."

_I can deal with how much this hurts... later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here we are. this last chapter was partly-outlined a while ago, and i figured out fairly quickly how i wanted to illustrate Vega's state of mind at the outset of _Mass Effect 3_ , so this is probably the shortest time between chapters yet.
> 
> most or all of the 'Bioware canon' information is from the Mass Effect Wiki entry for James Vega. extra credit to anyone who realized Vega is picturing Anderson drinking _Elasa_. i just like to think at SOME point in the last few months they had a conversation centered on Shepard... and loss. and that it _might_ have figured into his appointment as XO.
> 
> which isn't exactly canon, but here's my logic: Vega has been in Special Forces for years. the backstory stuff on Fehl Prime clearly indicates he has caught the eye of both Admiral Hackett and Anderson (even though, in *my* canon, Hackett also considers his drinking, record, etc, and has second thoughts). he's clearly being groomed for N7, and during the game you have the ability to push him in that direction. so there's SOMETHING there. the third game is also plotted so as to give the STRONG impression that Anderson had always _planned in advance_ to put Shepard on the _Normandy_ when the Reapers attacked. in my fic, i play upon this, by making him the one who carries out Hackett's plans, making sure votes go their way, etc.
> 
> QED: i think an argument can be made that Anderson knows exactly what he's doing when he grooms Vega to guard Shepard, and then throws them back together on board the _Normandy_. you could easily say it's only for James to eventually _take over_ for Shepard (again, James means 'supplanter'), but i've chosen in this fic to take it one step further into the 'ship).
> 
> Spanish:  
> Resolver mi problema ~ solving my problem  
> No seas idiota ~ Don't be an idiot  
> ¡A poco! ~ Seriously?


End file.
